


Lost and found

by Idromela



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 08:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 59,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idromela/pseuds/Idromela
Summary: Death Eaters found out about Snape being a spy for the Order and take him as a prisoner. What's left of him is in the hands of Sirius Black. Set during the “Order of the Phoenix” book time but i'll not follow that storyline. Mostly angst and hurt/comfort.





	1. They took Severus

**Author's Note:**

> Grammatical mistakes could occur because English is not my Native Language.  
> Any correction and/or suggestion is appreciated.  
> Thank you!

“Sirius. Please, take a seat. I have something to say”

Albus looked even older than he already was. Large, dark circles under his eyes told Sirius about long nights of wake. The way he was moving told Sirius about his exhaustion. The way his eyes sparkled told Sirius of the tears he would have cried if they weren't there. Albus was already telling them everything, even if he hadn't pronounced a single word yet. 

They were in Grimmauld Place. The war was still on. That was the only place where they could still be themselves. Sirius liked to think that one day they will be free again. And it will not be the freedom contaminated by the fear that one day all will end again in another war, no – they will be really free. For him, it will be the first time at all in years, and he couldn't wait for the war to be over. 

He thought they were close, but Albus's face made him think that maybe they were not quite there yet. He glanced at Remus, who didn't look happy either. Albus sighed. 

“They took Severus.”

A little gasp from one of them – who was it? Tonks? – and a grunt from Moody were the only reactions he could hear. A stonecold silence took the others, including himself. He saw Remus cover his face with his hands. 

He didn't care about Snape. Snivellus was a grimy little bastard since they met, and he wasn't changed during the years – well, neither was he. That was one thing they had in common. That, and the undying love for Lily. Undying despite her death itself. They both couldn't forget her. They just couldn't. Not that they've ever spoken about her, but he knew Snape's feeling, and he knew that he knew his feeling too. Sirius knew that they were both still in love with her. And now Snape was gone too. 

He had no doubt about that: they took Severus, so he was dead.  
All he could think about was that he was the only person still alive who would daily mourn her. 

He felt sorry for Albus. He knew how much he cared for that stupid greasy worm. His body language was talking for him: he was devastated. A little bit of jealousy slipped in, making him wonder if he would be the same if the dead one was Sirius. He shook his head, trying to kick out that thought. It was no use in that moment. 

“How do you know that?”

Remus' voice was trembling while asking. Sirius saw Tonks reach out and put an hand on his shoulder. At least he had some comfort. Sirius couldn't imagine that Remus, of all people, could feel sorry for Snape at the point his voice would break. Albus hesitated, then sighed.

“They send me something.”  
“What?”  
“His memory of...”

Albus hesitated again. Sirius was beginning to feel uncomfortable, if not slightly angered, even if he couldn't understand why. Snape was dead, what was there to be said more? Did he have to make those reunions annoying even from the land of the dead? He could see him smirk from a long cold distance, sneering at him. He tried to guess Albus' words: 

“Of him being killed...?” said, trying to release the tension. To his dismay, Albus shook his head. 

“No. It was his memory of torturing Snape. They kept him alive – he still is.”

The previous silence was joyful compared to the one that followed that information. Sirius felt like a mountain of ice fell on him. Snape being killed – well, he could deal with that. He wouldn't have cared that much, but he would've mourned a little, maybe even drinking something in his honor. He would have even been able not to speak too bad about him to Harry and the others if they'd ever asked him something about their teacher. 

But that...  
… that was different.


	2. At least two weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammatical mistakes could occur because English is not my Native Language.  
> Any correction and/or suggestion is appreciated.  
> Thank you!

Sirius was shocked.  
Severus Snape was prisoner of the Death Eaters. 

Being prisoner of the Death Eaters was something he wouldn't have wished to his worst enemy. Not even his parents. Or relatives. Hell, not even Pettigrew – he would have dealt with him alone, by the way. 

“How long has it been?”, asked Moody. He looked the least shocked in the room, but Sirius knew that he kept everything inside. Albus turned to him:  
“Two weeks, maybe a month. I'm not sure.”  
Sirius jumped:  
“Two weeks? And you're telling us now?”

Albus looked at him like he couldn't believe he would ask him that – Sirius himself didn't know why he reacted that way. 

“He was on a mission. When school is closed he could be away the whole time.”  
“Two weeks, Albus. A day would be already too much!”  
“I know, my boy.”  
“Sirius. Calm down.”

Remus' voice brought him back to reality. He was standing and, given the face of the others, he screamed the last words. He sat muttering an apologize. Albus continued to speak, and Sirius couldn't help but notice he seemed older and closer to the tears than he was before. Maybe he was agreeing with Sirius. Maybe he did know they were already too late. Sirius was horrified and he barely cared about Snape. Albus actually cared about him. Man, he must be in agony, Sirius tought. 

“I received the... the memory yesterday with a note. The note said:“He's mine now”. So, at first, i thought it happened few days ago. But then... i noticed something. I...” his voice broke and paused. 

He closed his eyes. No one in the room made a single noise, watching him struggle not to cry in that moment. Sirius had seen Dumbledore down other time. But he never looked so close to the defeat. Close, he thought then, but he will never be defeated. He wanted to tell him, comfort him, but it would've been pointless. He glanced at Remus and Tonks. He had tears in his eyes. She was as pale as a ghost, too shocked even to cry. On the other side, Moody seemed almost fine, but he held his stick so hard his knuckles were white. Sirius glanced at the others too. They were all shocked. He couldn't tell if it was because of the situation Snape was in in that moment, or the sight of Albus Dumbledore being so fragile. He was happy that Harry and his friends couldn't see him in those conditions. He was happy they were upstairs, still unaware of the situation.

Albus inhaled and opened his eyes, his voice steadier now: 

“...I noticed something. In the memory. I watched it more than once, because i had to – i had to understand when it happened, where, and which people were involved. I couldn't see who they were, because outside of Tom everybody else was wearing a mask. It happened in his manor, and i'm fairly sure of it. When – that was difficult, but i saw that outside the window was raining. Severus left a month ago. There were some storms in those days. But the last time was...”  
“Two weeks ago”, concluded Moody. Albus nodded. 

“Exactly. That's why i think it happened at least two weeks ago. But it could have happened also when he left.”

One month, thought Sirius, horrified. He heard the pained voice of Arthur Weasley asking:  
“How do you know he's still alive?”  
“His magic spells protecting his rooms in the dungeons at Hogwarts are still up. They wouldn't be if he was dead.”

“But why now? Why letting you know now?” asked Moody again, standing up. Sirius knew him well enough to know that he wanted to do something immediately, and couldn't wait another moment talking anymore. He liked Moody, because in some ways they were exactly the same. Albus smiled for a second – probably he was thinking the same. He seemed relieved by their reaction. 

“I have a theory. Severus knows way too much about us and Tom would have never let us know that he can destroy the Order right away with the information he got. Unless...”  
“Unless he couldn't obtain any information.”  
“Precisely.”

A long, silent moment of realization went through them all. 

“He's not talking” murmured Remus. Sirius saw pride in the eyes of Albus Dumbledore – for a second, he was the proudest of them all.  
“He's not. He's still protecting us. But i can only imagine how much pain he's enduring. The memory itself was... way too much. Two weeks like that – if it's been only two weeks – would break any man.”

But not him, Sirius thought, before asking:  
“So, what do we do now?”

Everybody looked at him with wide eyes, like he said those things jumping naked on the table. 

“I mean, we have to do something, right? We have to find him and take him back. We cannot leave him with them.”  
“You realize this could be a trap, right?” 

Moody stood in front of him, no readable expression on his face. 

“If he's sending something after two weeks at least, it's because he wants us. He's not talking, so he wants to lure us to him. He's making him a bait.”  
“So what, Alastor? Since he's doing a good job, we leave him rotting there to be tortured until he dies?”  
“We both know that he won't live long anyway.”  
“We both know that they won't let him die!”  
“It would be a suicide only thinking--”  
“Would you want to be left behind?” Sirius stood too, facing Moody “If this happened to you, would you want to be left there?”  
“Yes.” 

Surprise caught Sirius so suddenly that he couldn't find anything to say. He turned to Dumbledore: 

“We're not letting him there, right?”

His voice was broken, he had tears in his eyes – Sirius knew he would've agreed with him. Instead, sitting there, looking so little, he whispered: 

“I cannot ask you to risk your life for--”  
“Albus, it's us. If we leave him there we'll not be any different from the Death Eaters!”  
“And, if we go, we'll be dead” said Alastor, looking at him intensely with the normal eye “or worse, prisoners like him. He's not talking, but can you resist their torture? Can I? If they take someone else alive, it will be the end of the Order.”

They both turned to Albus, who sadly shook his head.

“We cannot risk it.”

He couldn't believe it. He watched all the people in the room, looking for someone who would agree with him. They couldn't leave him there. They just couldn't. 

“If we leave him there, we've already lost.”


	3. Is it real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammatical mistakes could occur because English is not my Native Language.  
> Any correction and/or suggestion is appreciated.  
> Thank you!

They spoke for hours. Albus had to leave at some point, but they kept talking. Other people had to go too, but Sirius wouldn't let the others go. He didn't want to give up. He didn't want to wake up in the morning, having breakfast, talking with Harry, read a book – anything – knowing that somewhere Severus Snape, Snivellus, the person he hated the most in the whole world, was going through inexplicable pain in order to save them. How could he look his godson in the eyes knowing that Snape was still defending him and doing more than he ever did? How could he look into Lily's eyes knowing that the other man who loved those eyes as much as he did was only praying for his death? 

They all agreed with Sirius that yes, Severus deserved to be saved; but that was it. Saving him was nearly impossible. It meant that they had to go to the Riddle Manor (if Severus was still there, which they couldn't know for sure at that point), surpass every defensive spell on the way, defeat any Death Eater they would find, eventually find Severus in the Manor, take him, and go back. Together and alive. 

Yes, all right, it was impossible. Nearly impossible. But Sirius didn't want to give up. He couldn't believe he would be the only one trying to convince the others to save Snivellus. He didn't know why he was being so stubborn about it. Maybe it was really because, fuck it, he couldn't leave the guy like that, even if he hated him. Or maybe it was because of his years in Azkaban. He wasn't tortured – not in the way they were torturing Snape, at least – but he knew what it meant to be locked up and wait for the next torment. He didn't want others to endure the same experience. 

Plus, he wasn't talking now. What if he'd break, sooner or later, condemning them all – only because they thought it was safer to leave him there? They had to come up with a plan and take him back. 

The others left. Only the Weasleys, Remus and, of course, Tonks, remained in the house for dinner. It was like having a large, beautiful family, but that evening the thought didn't seem to bring him any joy. They moved to the kitchen, quiet. Sirius knew there was nothing more to tell them. He didn't want to see them for a while. They talked all too much that day. 

“I'll go call the kids”, said, and went upstairs looking for his godson and the others. He had to tell them too. They had to know. The others would say they were too young – but they had to know. They were young, brave, strong – maybe they would have come up to a solution. 

He was slightly surprised to see them all sitting on the stairs of the second floor. Less surprised to see them all red eyed and upset, like they already knew. They heard it, somehow. He should have been angry at them, but he couldn't bring himself to. He would have lectured them on obeying the no-spying policy another time. That time, he just sat on the stairs with them. They were all silent. Even the twins seemed upset.

“You heard it all, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“What do you think?” 

Hermione looked the other before replying, and Sirius knew she was talking on behalf of everyone:

“It's obviously a bait. Of course, we should try to save him. We could make it. But first... are you sure it's not all made up?”  
“What?”  
“The memory. Dumbledore said that he saw the memory of You-Know-Who torturing Snape, but how can you know it's not a fake?”

She's right, Sirius thought. How could he be so blind? How could he fall for that so easily? Then he thought of Dumbledore's eyes and his doubt fell again. 

“You didn't saw Dumbledore. You've only heard him. I swear to you, if you'd look at him telling us about the memories, you would have believed him too.”  
“Fine, but isn't Dumbledore a bit too attached to professor Snape?” asked Harry “How can you be sure he's not being played?”  
“Harry, i understand your worries, but it's Dumbledore we're talking about” said Sirius “I'm pretty sure he can distinguish something made up and something real.”  
“Yes, but... it's not like he's his son or things like that, but he's obviously emotional seeing something bad happening to him. I think that those memories should be seen by someone else.” he paused “You should see them, Sirius.”  
“What?”  
“You hate Snape! If you look at those memories and believe it, then they must be true. But if you see something made up, well... maybe we should consider it.”

Sirius looked his godson, speechless. Of course, Dumbledore's emotions were authentic and his empathy was moved by those feeling. But Snape himself – well, maybe he had to reconsider it.

“I'd watch them myself", said Harry, "but you wouldn't allow it.”  
“No, you're right. I don't.” 

Sirius stood up, the other following. 

“I'll ask Dumbledore. I'll do it. If it's a trap, I'll be able to see it. If not...” he looked at them all “you should begin to think to a good plan.”

They began going down the stairs, when they heard something weird. Something to the door. They hurried up and ran to the door. 

They were all there, including Dumbledore, who was holding up a flask with a silver substance in it. They all knew what it was, but what it contained had to be worse then the first one, because Dumbledore was trembling with both despair and fury, and had tears down his cheek and beard, and didn't care to be seen by his young students. 

“He sent me another one”, he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Next chapter coming soon


	4. "Enjoy"

They were all in the room where they discussed Snape's destiny few hours ago. Emergency reunion with everyone available at the time. It was late at night. Dumbledore was furious and annihilated at the same time. He looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. It was worse than the first memory he saw: that was for sure.

The kids were in the room as well. Sirius thought he should've said something, tell them to go out, but after the little chat on the stairs he thought it was better for them to stay and see Dumbledore's face themselves. They had to understand why he believed Snape was really being captive at the Riddle Manor. He felt like an idiot – he jumped out in Snape's defense immediately, all because of Dumbledore's face. If he'd heard the news on the stairs with them – with no emotions in his eyes or posture whatsoever – he'd probably thought it was a trap organized by Snape himself. 

They couldn't trust him, could they? Dumbledore was just being too emotional. Harry was right. But Dumbledore was not some kind of sweet, old, emotional man. He was one of the greatest wizards alive. He couldn't fell for a trap like that. Or could he? Who knew what kind of emotions could play with his heart. Snivellus knew him for a while. If this was his trap, he would've played with the old man's heart rather than his brain.

He glanced at the item on the table: the flask with the memories and a note from Voldemort. No hexes, no curses, nothing. They analyzed it multiple times. Nothing but a note on a piece of parchment:

– Enjoy – 

said the note. 

“It's other memories”, said Dumbledore. His voice was trembling with rage. If Voldemort appeared in that right moment, Sirius had no doubt he would've killed him with his bare hands. Dumbledore continued:

“At this point I have no doubt that he's using Severus as a bait. His spells in the dungeons are still on – that means he's still alive. Of course, i have no idea how long he will resist. But...” he hesitated, looking at Sirius “... we cannot leave him there, that's for sure.”

Sirius sighed. He hated to contradict himself that way – wasn't he saying the same thing few hours ago? – but Harry was right. Dumbledore was not rational when it was about Snape. 

“Yeah, about that...” Sirius glanced at Harry, before focusing on Albus “... listen, I hate to be the one saying that now after i tried to convince you for so long, but... how do you know it's not Snape's plan?”

Dumbledore looked at him, silent. He continued: 

“I mean, we know he's smart and all, but he couldn't play you on that level. No one can. If there's something he can play with – it's your emotion. How can you know this is not Snape's plan to lure the Order in the hands of the Death Eaters?”

Dumbledore sighed.

“It's curious, Sirius. That was the first reaction i was expecting from you. Too bad that you've changed your mind now.”  
“Well, I'm sorry, but... you're too attached to him.”  
“Do you really think that my relation with Severus could be so strong to deceive me with some random memory?”  
Sirius was already regretting saying anything. At every word Dumbledore looked different, stronger, as they were giving him strength again. “Sirius, I'm quite sure i can distinguish a fake memory from a real one.”  
“I have no doubt of that. But...”  
“Do you really think I would risk our lives and our mission for something I'm not completely and absolutely sure of?”  
“No, of course, but...”  
“If we leave him there, they will keep torturing him. And sooner or later he could break. The best thing that could happen to him, right now, is dying – and we know they won't let him. If he breaks, we're dead. If he dies – and I'm quoting you, Sirius – we are no better than them. We could win the battle, we could win the war – but, what would be left of us?”  
“All right, listen... I'm sorry. I'm not saying that i don't trust you. It's just...” he paused, watching the objects on the table “maybe I should watch them too.”  
“What?”  
“Just to be sure. I hate Snape. At least we'd have an impartial opinion on it.”  
“You trust me so little you have to verify yourself?”  
“It-it's not that, Albus, come on, it's just...” Sirius muttered something else and then remained silent. He didn't know what to do. Of course, he trusted Dumbledore. He would've died for him and the Order. Yet Snape was a greasy, sneaky bastard he could never trust, not in a million years. He wanted to save him because of Dumbledore, not because of him. 

“Very well.”  
“What?”  
“If that's what you want – if that's what the Orders want – someone else can watch the memory. Only one. It's...” Dumbledore hesitated “... if we decided to save him... and we succeed... I'm fairly sure he would hate to know that we all watched that memory.”  
“Sounds fair” Sirius nodded. He raised his hand to take the flask, but Dumbledore stopped him: 

“We should decide who's going to watch it.”  
Sirius glanced at the others in the room. Alastor, Kingsley, Arthur? Remus, maybe? Tonks – Molly? The kids were out of discussion – they should've been out of the room as well, but that was not the moment. He knew – he just knew – he had to watch it. He was the one who knew Snivell... Snape. He was the one who knew Snape better. They fought too much. Remus didn't know him as much as he did. And he didn't hate him as much as he did. 

“I should watch it. I hate him too much. I'd do anything to prove that he's lying. So, if i think it's real, it should really be. Right?”  
“I trust Sirius” said Remus.  
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, watching him intensely. It was like he was trying to read him. Then he spoke:  
“You're too emotional in another way, if you hate him so much. I think we should let someone else watch it.”  
“I could do it”, said Moody, taking a step towards the table. 

Sirius panicked and couldn't even tell why. It was just – he had to know what was happening to him. He had to. But Alastor was, indeed, the best option. He was skeptical. He never trusted Snape. He could see things the other couldn't. Sirius just wanted to watch the memories because he was stubborn. Alastor looked at him. There was something in the other eye that was going trough him, piercing him. Could he sense his heartbeat, his panic? Then he said something completely unexpected that made Sirius almost sigh with relief.

“Maybe we can watch this together. Four eyes could be better than two” before Sirius could react, he added “but only us. If Snape would really be upset to know that we all watched it, it will stay between us. Would you trust us?”

The others nodded. Dumbledore sighed. He seemed too angry even to respond. 

“Fine. You will both look at it. But i trust that, when everything will be over, you will never, ever, ever use this knowledge to diminish Severus or humiliate him. You will never use it against him. Can I trust you gentleman, or should I make an Umbreakable Vow with both of you?” 

He said those things to both of them, but he was only looking at Sirius. 

“I would never do something like that. If it's real. If it's really happening. I thought you'd know me better than this, Albus.”  
“This is not the place nor the time to discuss this” said Dumbledore, breaking eye contact – but he knew he was thinking about the time he lured Snape in the Shrieking Shack with Moony transforming into a werewolf. Just after they... no. That was not the time to bring those memories up. They never really talked about that and no, that was not the right time. 

Maybe later, he thought. 

They went to the little Pensieve they had in Grimmauld Place, and put the memory in it. They were all there – even the kids. Wasn't it a bit late for them? But maybe, it was right. Maybe they had the right to stay. 

He and Alastor looked each other for a couple of second, then turned to the Pensieve, took a deep breath, and went into the memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be very difficult to read.  
> Coming soon.


	5. Snape's Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been so hard to write.  
> I had to change the status of the story from Mature to Explicit because of this chapter.

TELL US. 

It was not the pain – that, he could take. They were the other things. He was not alone. He was never alone. He could not cry. He could not rest. He could not sleep. They wouldn't leave him alone to think. He only could feel panic and pain. Only thing he could do, was to cling on his mind – keep it close, keep it safe, Severus, don't let them know. Don't fall. Don't let them know. The Cruciatus curse was the only thing keeping him warm. But they wouldn't use a lot on him. He couldn't lose his mind. He knew too much. He had to tell them all. All. Tell them. He wouldn't. 

TELL US. 

No.

TELL US. 

Never.

TELL US. 

They didn't strip him. It was the lashes to destroy his clothes. A cursed whip – how original. He would've laughed at them if it didn't hurt so bad. Again, that he could take. At some point, he screamed. They laughed. But he didn't talk. 

TELL US. 

They would beat him – how long had it been? Nothing seemed to work with him. He just wouldn't surrender. They had to do something else. He's so proud. Such a proud man. So proud. They couldn't break his spirit with pain. They had to do something else.

TELL US. 

They stripped until they wore nothing but their masks and capes and boots. That was the first time he saw another man naked. Or anyone else naked. He never did anything with anyone. He knows what they want to do. He can feel fear for the first time. He never did something like that. He never – never had the occasion to – he never did anything. They know, somehow. They laugh. They pin him on the ground, face down, legs wide open. One of them kneel. He hears him muttering an Engorgio charm, making something bigger. He feels his hand grabbing his hips and pull them up, close to him. Everybody around him laughs. He has his face on the ground. One of them put a boot on him, pinning his head to the ground too. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He will not talk. 

TELL US NOW OR ELSE.

He won't talk. No, he won't.  
They laugh even more.

TELL US! 

He was a virgin, thought Sirius horrified. They were going to – he was a virgin, fuckfuckfuck – they were going to – 

the Death Eater on top of him pushed. He could feel anything inside of him break. His little, tight, unprepared, dry asshole brutally assaulted by a dick they used an Engorgio spell on. He couldn't think anymore to anything but that. The constant pounding. The laughter. The boot on his face keeping his face down. The others keeping his hands and feet down. The one on top of him pulling up his hips to have more access. Opening his buttcheeks, to have more access. His grunting. The feeling of being exposed, vulnerable, open, split. Feeling helpless. Being called a bitch. A worthless bitch. A cunt. A hole. Hearing them talking about turns. They will do that again. They will take turns. They will take him all. They will heal him enough not to kill him. Another man's dick is inside him, taking pleasure, leaving pain. He feels the blood running on his thighs. He's never done that before. Nothing. Just a couple of kisses with - 

TELL US. 

No.

TELL US. 

It was – how long? It seemed hours. They really took turns. They seemed all the same. So many hands, so many bodies. Some of them are slower, more deliberate, taking their time to enjoy his pain. Others are brutal and just pound, pound, pound until they come inside him. He can feel their sperm inside him. He feels it all. He cannot faint. If he does, they will bring him back. He cannot go anywhere. 

TELL US. 

They pee on him. Pee on his bloody back, his tights, his destroyed asshole, his hair. They flip him over and pee again on his limp dick, his face, his eyes. One of them takes him by the hair and makes him sit. Forces him to drink his pee. They all laugh. That's all he is now. A public toilet. A public hole. A public bitch. They leave him there, healthy enough not to die, laughing. He thinks it's over. But outside the door there are others. 

They are all taking turns. 

He could not sleep. He could not recover.

TELL US. 

Keep them safe. Keep Lily's son safe. Keep Albus safe. Don't talk. Let them use your own blood as a lubricant. Let them violate you. Laugh at you. Pee on you. Take turn. Let them come in your mouth, that's all you'll be able to eat from now on. Cum-eater, piss-eater – all but Death Eater.

TELL US. 

He's not one of them anymore. He's a bitch. Bitches don't talk. Please, please, don't talk. 

TELL US. 

Don't talk. Don't do anything. Keep them safe. This will never end. Oh, God, it will never end. Be strong. Be strong for them all. For him.

TELL US. 

Sirius...

 

Sirius fell on the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Next chapter coming soon.


	6. That guilty kiss

He kept screaming.   
He couldn't stop.   
He pushed away the others.   
He didn't want to be touched.  
He saw Moody sit on a chair, pale and shocked. 

He felt dampness on his legs.   
He had peed on himself during the memory. 

He didn't remember going out of the room.   
He didn't.   
He didn't remember push them away and running screaming – screaming, constantly screaming, trying to get them away – those hands, those bodies, those --  
he just found himself on his bed, crying. He curled up under the covers, still fully dressed, pants still wet, and cried like a baby.

He cried only once, when Lily and James died. He never cared for anyone else. He never cried like that. Not even in Azkaban. There, all he could think about was revenge. But what he lived now... 

He felt it like it was his own pain. His own humiliation. His own losing virginity that way. He could feel his own asshole twitch at the thought. That constant pounding. The spells to heal just enough not to die. The constant pain. Hours that way – days. He's been there for weeks, now. At the thought he cried even harder. He was still living that. He was still protecting them. He was being tortured in that same moment, when he was there comfortable under the covers and had the freedom to cry. He could still taste the bitter piss in his mouth. He was horrified and traumatized and Severus was still there. He was still there. And all Severus could think was protecting them. Him. Protecting him. 

They hated each other, yes. But there was also that time when they kissed. It was snowing and he hit him with a snowball. During the Christmas time. They were alone. They fought and they kissed. It was so natural. So beautiful. It just felt right and perfect, there in the snow. He brought him in the Astronomy Tower and kissed him again for a very long time. They touched a little, clothes on. He could remember that sloppy, need, wonderful, long kiss. How surprised he was to find that moment so beautiful and perfect. 

In his memory, Snape had thought that he did nothing except a couple of kisses. Sirius knew what he was thinking about. The one on the snow and the one in the Astronomy Tower. He did nothing else. With anyone. 

After that kiss he hated him even more. And Snape hated him even more as a defense. The first attacks after the kiss, he could tell he was hurt, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't accept what happened between them. Didn't he just love Lily? Didn't they have that in common? They did, even if they never spoke about it. They were young. It was supposed to be a phase. He tried to kill him luring him into the Shrieking Shack. He did. He wanted to scare him, make him go away – make his own feeling going away. But they never did. Only Severus left. He got closer to the other Slytherins. He fought with Lily and they never talked to each other again. He became a Death Eater. That confusing kiss, the confusing feeling they had towards each other – was it love? Was it lust? He couldn't tell. 

But what would've happened if Sirius didn't keep being an asshole? Maybe they'd stopped fighting. Maybe they would have become friends. Lovers. They would have fought for Lily. Or just let the love for her end. 

So many possibilities they let slip – no – it was all his fault. He ruined it. It was not because of him that Snape Joined the Death Eaters, but he definitely pushed him to them. He could've done things differently. Maybe things would be different by now. Maybe he would not be there crying, knowing that the other man was still suffering immensely just to protect them all. That he was still capable to be in his bed because he was not talking yet. 

He felt a movement – someone was on his bed, sitting. He didn't have to push away his covers to found out who he was. Remus was the only friend he had left in the whole world. Of course he would be there for him. He tried to breathe, stop crying a little. 

Keep it together, for fuck's sake, he thought.

“Moody said it's real. No way he could've faked it.”  
Oh, God, he already forgot why he'd watched the memory in the first place.   
He really was the worst person on the planet. 

“He couldn't” he muttered from under the covers.   
“Well, your reaction would have been enough anyway.”  
“It was...”  
“I know. It was harsh. Moody said that there was no way he would tell what he saw and he'll tell us nothing. But he's sure that's a true memory, and that that's Severus'.” 

He felt relief. Of course, the other didn't know, they couldn't. They could never know. He felt so guilty for seeing it, for doubting it – damn, after all those years, he really couldn't trust him could he? And yet it was his fault. He never treated him right, if not for some minutes hidden in a corner. He pushed the covers away, sitting on the bed. He couldn't help but think at the Death Eater making Severus sit, pulling his hair, forcing him to swallow his pee while the other laughed. 

“We must save him.”  
“Yes.”

They would have.   
They couldn't leave him there another minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.   
> Next chapter coming soon.


	7. The long wait

They had no plan. No plan at all. Only go there, kick some asses and leave with Severus. Moody watched the memory again, alone – Sirius couldn't bear the thought of reliving it again – and tried to get more details by what Severus saw before they would put him face down with a boot on his head, even if he didn't share this detail to the others. He just said “Before they took his vision” and looked at him, since they were the only ones knowing what it really meant, and Sirius suppressed a shiver. It was in a dungeon, there was no light at all, no windows. So they had to go to the dungeons. They had nothing more.

It would have been Dumbledore, Moody, Shaklebolt and Remus. Sirius wanted to come too, but they feared that he would be too emotional and try to get revenge right away. He tried to convince them, and got angry. That convinced them not to let him go with them. They wanted to be fast. He could just hope that the others wouldn't understand what happened to him – that they'd find a decent situation. Dumbledore knew already all the defenses they would've met. He knew them because Severus told him. In case everything would happen to him. Sirius felt they were already too late. 

They left in a few minutes. All Sirius could do was wait while he would've wanted with all his heart to be there with them. He wanted to enter the dungeon screaming and waving his wand back and forth and kill everyone and find him, hug him, tell him that he was sorry, so sorry, that it was all his fault, and that he would have never, ever, ever let something like that happen to him ever again. Even if Severus didn't forgive him, he would have protected him forever. He'd been a spy for too long, hated for too long. That was it. He did more than everyone else could. He had to be saved, and rest, and get well, and never suffer that way ever again. 

He and the kids went into the kitchen. Molly was cooking. It was her way to release the stress. Tonks wanted to help because Remus was out there, and she desperately needed to release the stress too. But she couldn't cook, so Molly let her only cut some vegetables. So they just sat there, watching Tonks 

He hugged Harry. They hadn't talk after the Pensieve, but he was so shocked by Sirius' reaction he couldn't think at nothing else to say but: “I really hope they save him. If it's so terrible – I saw your face – I really hope they save him. I couldn't imagine...”  
“Don't” said Sirius “don't imagine. He was trying to protect you. The only thing you can do from now on is protecting him too.”

Harry nodded, and they separated. They were both very emotional and they loved each other, despite being so far away most of the time. He had to tell him about Snape, Sirius thought. About that kiss. All the mean things he said to him, and didn't want to. He had to make amend. He would have, somehow. But now the priority was Severus. 

He waited for the longest time. All he could think about was those memories he saw. Severus lived all that and more. For all that time. All he saw was few hours and he already was beyond traumatized about that. And he couldn't imagine how it must have felt to live that moments alone, thinking that he had to carry on or everything else would have been hopeless. He never sold them up. He gladly let them torture him, strip him of his dignity and humanity, just to save their mission and prevent Voldemort to find them all and kill them. If he could still hug Harry and feel that he had some hope for the future, it was all thanks to him. He felt so guilty, yet so grateful. He hoped they would've had time to talk. He hoped he'd have time to make him feel better. Make him forget. Make him understand that all his suffering was finally over. 

Time was going on so slowly... 

He felt tears in his eyes just thinking of those agonizing moments in Snape's body. He rose and made some tea for the kids, to avoid having those thoughts in his mind. He didn't want to be on the verge of the tears with them. They already witnessed too much. He regretted not saying anything before going into the Pensieve. He should've tell them to leave. 

The kids were silent, maybe too much. He glanced at them briefly. He didn't know what they knew or saw when he got out from the memory. He tried to remember. He was there... they were all there... he felt suffocating, he had to leave... and he ran away. He was screaming, and crying, and his pants were wet. That's what they saw. Maybe it was enough to scare them off. They seemed to think: if Sirius, that had spent more than a decade in Azkaban, was reacting that way, what was Snape going into? He felt sorry for them. They shouldn't have seen all that. 

They drank tea in silence. Tonks was done with her vegetables, and Molly had already cooked enough food for a week. They were all together in the kitchen, sipping tea in silence. It was almost morning. It all started yesterday. The first memory, then the second, their vision, the plan, and they went there immediately... no one got any sleep. 

He was considering telling the kids to go to sleep, when they heard some noises. They heard calling. They heard banging and screaming. It was them.   
They were back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!   
> Next chapter coming soon


	8. Almost gone

Sirius could hear Tonks sigh in relief at the sight of Remus. He told the kids to stay in the kitchen. 

“But –” Harry tried to protest, but Sirius raised one hand, interrupting him.  
“No. You've all already seen too much. You should stay here and wait.”  
“He's right” said Molly “don't make things more difficult. You're too young.”  
“But – we're seventeen!” said the twins, but Molly shook her head.  
“Not now – stay here. Wait until we settle this and then go to bed. Tomorrow we'll talk.”  
“Please” added Sirius, watching all of them, especially Harry, who seemed really frustrated, but obeyed. They remained there with their tea, while the adults went to the others in the hallway. 

It took few seconds to Sirius to realize that Albus was missing, and his heart skipped a beat. Was he...

“Albus went to Hogwarts” said Moody, guessing his thoughts.  
“What?”  
“He said he wanted to ask Madame Pomfrey to come here. Plus, he wanted to see if He would send him something again” he explained, but Sirius could tell that something was wrong. Moody didn't continued but gave him a look, telling him that he would've told him later, “let's see what we can do for Snape now.”

They all had sad expression on their faces. They looked like going to a funeral, which made Sirius fear for bad news. Shacklebolt had someone in his arms, tightly wrapped in a mantle. He tried to get closer and look, but he shook his head: 

“Not here. Where can we put him?”

They brought him upstairs, in a guestroom. It had nothing much, but the bed was big and comfortable. There was a chair where Alastor sat, looking exhausted. Sirius made a mental note to bring there books, an armchair, something more comfortable. He guessed Severus would have stayed there for a while, and of course he couldn't stay there alone. He would stay there with him, waiting for him to heal as long as he needed. Weeks, months, a year...? All was possible, all was accomplishable now that he was back. He didn't want to think at their faces. Their defeated expressions. They were all silent and dark as in a wake, which made Sirius feel even worse. 

After they were all in there, Kingsley put the bundle on the bed and carefully unfold it. Remus would be on the other side of the bed, helping him.

“I warn you, it's not a pleasant sight” he said, sadness taking over him, as he revealed to the rest of the Order the body of their former spy. 

They were delicate enough not to abruptly open the whole mantle, mercifully covering his groins and legs and discovering just the upper part of his body, but they couldn't be fooled – what they could see was enough to understand the gravity of the situation. Tonks gasped. Molly was livid and couldn't move. Alastor grunted, shaking his head, looking away. He saw really too much. Sirius looked at Severus and forgot how to breathe. He didn't know where to begin – just even to look – it was too much.

Severus was naked, bloody, thin – so thin compared to the memory he saw. It had been too much time. He remembered what he thought. That he would've just eaten cum and drink piss, because that's what they would give to him. He was starved to the point his skin looked stretched on the bones. He looked like a skeleton painted in blood and cuts. He was covered in bruises and deep cuts and dried fluids Sirius didn't want to recognize. He remembered the cursed whip. He was sure some of those cuts originated from there. Something to intensify the pain, but maybe also something to prevent those cuts to heal completely. Just always open, to rot and torment him every moment. He could tell that some of the wounds were deeply infected. And the covered part – he didn't want to think about that. What they did to him. All that time. They needed to understand what to do with him first. Heal him, of course, but how? They had to understand the hexes they hit him to, or they would've just worsen things. They had to wait for Madame Pomfrey, and Sirius hoped she would get there fast; he knew there was just no time to waste. Severus was not gone yet, but he knew he was not going to survive in those conditions. 

They stood there for a long minute, absolutely speechless. They were all afraid to do anything. They could just make things worse. Maybe a bath would have been helpful; just that, while waiting for Madama Pomfrey to arrive. At least they would have been able to see over the blood, count the bruises, understand the effective damage he was suffering. He turned to the others. They were all so pale. Hermione was crying softly, as well as...

Hermione? 

The kids were all there, behind them, but close enough to the bedroom to see him clearly. He thanked the Gods that Kingsley and Remus didn't uncover him completely. They probably sneacked in the bedroom while they were not watching to see if it was truly him, and check his conditions – why? Because they were worried or because they didn't believe him? Even if it was because they still didn't believe him, Sirius knew that now they totally believed everything – the pure horror on their faces told him that. Hermione was crying, Ginny was going to. Ronald had covered his mouth with his hands. The twins were silent and unmoving as something struck them both, staring at Severus with wide eyes, unable to stare away. Harry was clutching at his own stomach, so pale, probably suppressing the urge to vomit, his lip trembling as he was struggling not to cry. That vision finally shook Sirius. They couldn't stay there – they couldn't see him that way – they didn't have to know that. 

“For fuck's sake” Sirius muttered, trying to push them out “this is NOT the right time to do this!”  
“We – we didn't – ” Harry stuttered, while Sirius tried to push him out. They all tried, Molly lecturing them, Moody cursing – it was all so confusing, all of sudden – Sirius took Harry's face in his hands and tried to look in his eyes.  
“Harry, this is not the right time. Please. Please go – don't look at him. He doesn't deserve this.”  
“But Sirius, is he – ” Harry stuttered, tears already on his cheeks, while going out of the room “is he going to survive?”  
“I don't know” he murmured, before closing the door.

He really didn't know.


	9. Snape's Memory pt.2

He constantly remembers.   
It's the only way he can stay lucid.   
He must be ready. He must not fall.   
Albus will come.   
He said that if something happened to him, he would have saved him at all costs.   
It's only a matter of time.   
He must resist.  
He will come. 

He waits. 

They torture him. Keep him starving in a cell with no window. He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know if it's day or night. He loses count of the day. Time never goes off. He doesn't know. He doesn't have to worry. Albus will come. 

Sometimes they take his memories. They force them out of him. The last ones. He does everyhting he can to protect his past. They take the memories of what they are doing to him.

He waits. He resists.

They rape him. Other tortures are not funny anymore. Sometimes they use them as a foreplay. The whip, the Cruciatus, the beatings. Nothing they enjoy anymore. They love to use him in any other way possible. They love to watch him that way. Submitted to them, useless, humiliated. Some of them would just watch the others rape him and masturbate. Sometimes there would be women too. They get there to laugh at him and his limp dick and his screams and the way they fuck him. They would let them be fucked too, telling him to watch and learn. They love to do it while he's being raped by others. They all laugh together. They never think they could be prisoners themselves. They never think they could become him. Because if they'd betray – and be busted – and tortured – they would talk. Immediately. But Severus never talks. He never begs. Sometimes he screams, when the pain is too much he screams, but he never talks. And he never begs. It's the only thing that keeps him sane. 

He is still himself.   
He will not surrender.   
He will not beg.   
He will not betray.   
Albus will save him.

The first – hours? Days? - are the worst. They don't leave him alone. Never. He cannot have peace. He cannot rest. He feels like going crazy, but he won't. He seals in his memories. It's the only place he can go and stay safe. 

But they always bring him back. 

He thought the first rape was the worst thing that could ever happen to him; but what happened next, if possible, was even worse. He could feel everything. They would use the Engorgio charm all the time. They rape him with these massive cocks no one could ever have in nature. He can feel anyone in him. He never gets numb. They wouldn't let him. They force him to drink potions – he can recognize the taste – potions not to die, potions to feel them all. 

He could feel their cum inside of him all the time. On his skin. In his mouths. Nostrils. Eyes. Just to make sure he knows he's their playtoy. 

One time – one time – one of them made him sit on a glass – to make the cum go out of his hole – and he would make him drink – their cum and his blood, oh Gods, so much blood – and they would laugh – and yet he wouldn't come. 

The Dark Lord comes at some point. He tells him it's been a week. He said that he sent his memories to Dumbledore. He's devastated. Albus saw THAT. The Dark Lord tells him that a week is a very long time. That there's no way he would go and save him after what he saw. Tells him to surrender. If he does, he will personally kill him and all the pain will go away. 

He won't.   
He made a promise. 

They keep doing it. They are never tired. They love being with him all the time. He's there never truly dying, never truly collapsing, never truly fainting, he's always there, oh God, sometimes he hallucinates, he calls names, he cannot – KEEP IT TOGETHER DON'T YOU DARE DON'T TALK – they would laugh he will never talk never never never. 

He cannot see. It's too dark. He cannot see at all. Maybe an infection. They don't care if he sees. But he cannot. Maybe it's better if he can't see. He can pretend be somewhere else.

The Dark Lord comes a week later.   
And the week after that.   
And that after that. 

Four weeks.   
Albus is not there. 

He was betrayed.   
Talk, says the Dark Lord, and this will all go away. 

He would do that.   
Albus is not there.   
He will never come. 

He could betray him.   
As he did to him. 

But.   
Sirius. 

If he talks.   
Sirius dies. 

He will not. 

Sirius never loved him. But he did. He didn't care if he hated him. He would have protected him anyway. It was what made him still human. Different to them. He would not betray. He would still feel love. 

At some point they leave him be. Sometimes they come, but not as much as they did before. He can sometimes sleep. He doesn't allow himself to cry. Crying would be surrendering. He will cry when he will be safe. He still believes it. 

One night, or day, at some point. It happens. He was sleeping. No one was with him. He can feel hands and voices. And he thinks it's another time with them. But the voices are whisper. He feels fabric. He hears a voice. Some voices. 

Could it be...? 

He faints. All is dark and silence. He doesn't know anymore.


	10. The suspect

Poppy Pomfrey came just few minutes later with Albus and a chest full of her equipment. She made all of them go out to check him alone with Albus. They went downstairs in the kitchen, silent, waiting. Remus sat at the table, covering his face with his hands. Molly went to the stove to make tea for everyone. Tonks offered to help. Sirius got the feeling she wanted to help just to stay away from the silence that fell on them all – he could understand her. Shacklebolt didn't even tried to make an excuse, and followed them without a word, taking cups to pour the tea in without a word. What a strange man, Sirius thought. He would never show an emotion, just like Alastor. 

But Alastor, that time, looked really terrible. He didn't look sad or defeated, but tired and furious. He looked like he could kill someone with is bare hands. He wasn't sitting. When he looked at Sirius, he felt shivers down his back. 

“Do you have something stronger than tea? Firewhisky, perhaps?” Sirius nods.  
“Yes, in the living room. I'll go fetch the bottle.”  
“I'll come with you.”

They moved to the living room together.  
Sirius had the feeling the firewhisky was just an excuse, but he would've drink it gladly. Those bones... those scratches and cuts... he couldn't think of it. He poured a very generous amount of firewhisky for them both and drank it almost in one gulp. While filling the second glasses, he made a mental note to bring a fresh bottle to the others too. But it was obvious that Alastor had something in his mind. 

“There's something wrong” he muttered.  
“What do you mean?” whispered Sirius.  
“He was alone, there was no one guarding him... it was too easy.”  
“Too easy?”  
“I swear to you, there was no one in that damn manor. And if there was someone, was sleeping. It makes no sense.”  
“You mean that... like, that they wanted you to take him? To see where you'd bring him, maybe?”  
“Not at that point, no. I made sure he had no magical strings to that place before getting away. And i double checked. I'm absolutely sure they don't know where he is now, where we are – you can count on that.”  
“So, what's the point?”  
“I don't know, I...” he hesitated. Sirius poured him a third glass of firewhisky. He drank a little, before continuing. 

“It's like they didn't care anymore. Like he was no longer a bait. Just something to... to kill the time. They've been tortured him for two weeks, maybe three, even a month. That's what we know. But shouldn't they have had at least a little protection on him or his cell? It's like they were tired of him.”  
“But that's not possible. They couldn't. I thought they would have at least set up a trap. Albus said the first memory arrived the other day.”  
“Exactly. He said that they probably kept him for a while and, since he was not talking decided to use him as a bait. But if that's was true, why there was no one there?”

Sirius thought about it for a while. 

“What do you think it's happening, Alastor?”  
“I may be awfully wrong.”  
“Yeah, but... what do you think?”  
“Swear to me you won't tell. It's just my thought.”  
“It remains in this room. Please.”

Alastor sighed and looked around with his magic eye, making sure no one would hear. Then he said, at a very low volume so only Sirius could hear:

“I think they took him, and torture him, and use him like a bait, yes. But i think that Albus knew this way sooner than he told us. He knew that we would've gone immediately to his rescue. And if the Death Eater were ready – that could have been a massacre. So I think that he waited enough to let them think he would have never come, so they would lower their defense and rescue him.”  
“So he just... he left him there, tortured and... those things... those horrible things... and said nothing?”  
“Yes. I fear that's how it went.”  
“But... we could have organized something better! A plan!”  
“I know. We could have. But I think Albus sacrificed him to keep us safe.”  
“But...” Sirius was speechless. Alastor could be right, of course, but... “... he did so much! He suffered so much to protect us! And Albus would just be there, waiting for them to be tired of him? It's not fair!”

Alastor shook his head.  
“No. It's not. It's a war.”

He left Sirius alone in the living room, with his half finished bottle of firewhisky.


	11. Waiting

They all joined Albus and Poppy few minutes later, when they told them they could. She already provided to clean him helped by Albus, who would stay on a chair close to the bed, tears in his eyes, holding Severus' hand. They cut his hair really short, because they were too tangled to could even think washing them too. But hair would grow back. Why was Sirius thinking of hair? It was the last of his problems. 

He just couldn't face reality. He would cling on trivial things to avoid it – but it was in front of him, and he couldn't escape anymore. Snape in that big bed, so thin, covered in bruises and healing deep cuts looked so vulnerable and fragile he couldn't even believe he would survive another day. She did what she could at the moment. They just had to see how he would respond to her therapy. He had severe infections, deep cuts never healed, some of them hexed so that they would constantly bleed; he couldn't see, since his eyes were infected too and he'd been so much time underground his eyes would hurt seeing the light – a dim candle was all she would allow for now. He probably had some broken bones badly repaired just so he couldn't suffer too much internal bleeding and dying unexpectedly. 

In the end she mentioned his hips, lip trembling. She said that his hipbone and pelvis bones were totally destroyed. She could make it all go away, but she didn't know he would “mentally recover” from the “trauma” he suffered. 

That was it. She said it, without mentioning it. Now everybody knew what they did to him all that time. No one would say a word. They just looked at him.

He was on the bed, mercifully covered by a bed sheet. Only his arms, shoulders and head would show, and he looked like he could disappear at any moment. Albus looked like a giant next to him. Sirius looked at the old man, so utterly devastated while looking at Severus, and he wondered if Moody was right. Maybe he was, but maybe Albus didn't decide lightheartedly to leave him there. Maybe he didn't want to do that. Maybe he had to. That didn't make him less guilty. If it was true. He couldn't know. Yet Sirius didn't want him to be any close to Severus anymore. Mrs Pomfrey said that he needed to be alone, but someone had to stay next to him. She treated him with a sleepless potion so he wouldn't wake up, but they could never know. 

Albus, Kingsley and Alastor left along with Mrs Pomfrey without saying much, if not that they'd come back in few hours. Albus offered to stay too, but Sirius refused, saying that he needed to sleep. That he'd had a long day. He didn't say anything on Moody's suspects. He didn't ask. He just reassured him and let him go.

It had been a long night, indeed. And another day and night would have awaited Sirius. The day would have come soon. The room's window was closed so the light wouldn't come in. He would've read a book at the light of the candle and waited, hoped, ask for forgiveness, and pray that he would heal, and get better. 

All they could do was wait.


	12. The mystery of love

He was afraid. But he would not surrender. Fear was really nothing if you didn't pay attention to it. That's what his mother used to tell him. Severus would repeat those words in his head as his life depended on it. And it was true, in a way. Those words were preventing him to fell into panic completely. He had to resist for them all. But also for her. She's never been afraid of anyone. Not even her husband – his father. But he killed her anyway in the end. 

He still believed her though. A mother's advice always stays with you as her memory. But he was glad she was dead and couldn't see what he had become. She wouldn't have never been disappointed in him anymore. She would have never been worried about him again. Maybe one day he would have seen her again. But now he was alone. No one cared about him. Not even Albus. He just abandoned him. As every other man in his life. Women were kinder to him, sometimes.

Women. Mothers. Lily was a mother too. He wondered what kind of mother she would've become if she would have managed to survive. He felt so strange there, thinking of mothers while being raped again, and anything was just as painful and humiliating as always, and he was just glad they weren't there witnessing that. They say mothers never leaves you, but he hoped that his mother, if she was really still there, had the decency to turn away. 

Oh, God, he was being delusional again. 

Just don't talk. Ramble as much as you want in your mind but don't you dare talking. Close everything. Don't let them read you. They must not know.

No one loved him. Only his mother, but that was not enough to let her live. Lily never loved him. Sirius never loved him. Albus never loved him. Yet he loved them enough to protect them and all they love. Protect anybody but him. It would be so easy to surrender. So nice. But he can't he just can't. That's what he is. He loves despite pain. He loved Lily despite their fight and her being away and so distant. He loved Sirius despite him being a jackass. There were time he'd hate him too. But there was also that one time when they kissed and it was so perfect he could never stop thinking of him, not even when he tried to kill him. 

Yes, Sirius tried to kill him. But he loved him anyway.  
He, too, had killed who loved the most, didn't he?

There was – oh God, another one, this is huge, they just want to tear him apart, fuck, DON'T YOU FUCKING TALK YOU FUCKING CUNT – there was Oscar Wilde. Muggle writer. So loved by his mother. The Salome. That quote. 

“The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.” 

His whole life evolved around love and death.  
His whole life was a fucking mystery he could never fucking solve. 

He loved Lily. Yet he was the one responsible for her death. If it wasn't for that damned prophecy... but it was all right again, it was all right, he was defending her son, he was doing what he could – wait, was he screaming? 

Yes.

Yes he was. He was screaming like a pig, screaming at the top of his lungs because his whole body was pain and agony and yet HE COULD NOT FUCKING DIE it will be going on like this forever – he feels this one on top of him, crushing him, laughing, pounding, he's huge and laughs, he can smell alcohol in his breath, and he's sweaty and dirty and he's disgusted by himself – this was his punishment. 

He does not dare thinking of Sirius in those moments, even if he would love to.  
That kiss would give him strength. But he doesn't want to ruin that kiss – the pureness, the tenderness. 

“Severus...”

Why couldn't Sirius love him? If only he'd give him a change. He would have been good. It would have been good. He knows he would have loved him.

“Forgive me.”

He would like to cry, but he will not. Yet he is so sorry for himself. He must be, because no one else will. He doesn't want to be selfish. But he is just so sorry. He knows he's bad. He knows he deserves bad things. But he cannot help it. This is all he will ever have. The only human contact he will ever have. He will die being raped by one of them not careful enough. They will rape his corpse. He knows that. They will. Then they will burn him and come together on his ashes. Ashes and cum. And they will make some other prisoner eat that. 

Why is he thinking those things?  
Mom, don't listen to me, I'm not myself. 

“I really hope you can hear me”

Yes, i can, you annoying little cunt. 

“Please. Please forgive me. Please, wake up. Please. It's over. You're safe. You're here.”

What is it? Is that you, mom?  
Oh. They are not on him anymore. In him. Spitting on him, laughing at him. There's no one.

“You're safe. You're here now. Can you hear me?”

Why is the stone so soft? 

“You're safe” 

\- he woke inhaling sharply, like after a long apnea. He opens his eyes. He still cannot see. But he can hear. And feel. 

He feels soft. He feels covered. He feels dizzy and numb. 

He hears a voice. A husky, low male voice. 

“Severus!...”

What the...?

“Severus. Can you hear me? You're all right. You're safe. It's me. It's Sirius. You're in Grimmauld place. Can you hear me?”

He would like to think it's all Voldemort's plan to fake his rescue, so he could lower his guard and talk. 

Think quickly quick quick quick – they could have seen him thinking to Sirius from his memories to lure him to talk. They could have done that. 

But Sirius just said Grimmauld Place. 

They could know that only if he'd talked, and he didn't talk. 

If he did, they wouldn't waste time on pretending he was rescued.  
So he really was. 

And he knew he was real, because he could hear Sirius' voice and still feel his heart beating like crazy. Like he was still a teenager on the snow. He knew it was really him. He didn't know how he could be so sure, but he was.  
The mystery of love.

Oscar Wilde. Salome. All those deaths for one kiss.

Oh, his mind was still there.  
Oh, Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your feedbacks!! You're amazing!   
> Next chapter soon


	13. The side effect of fear

27 hours. That's how long it took him to wake up the first time. But he did wake up. He knew he heard him. He couldn't speak but he slightly squeezed Sirius' hand when he took it in his hands. To him it was a signal, a way to say “I'm still here”.  
He was really weak and they had to be so careful around him. His body was like the finest crystal. Mrs Pomfrey couldn't tell he was going to survive yet, and didn't want to indulge in some optimism. 

“I'd rather being wrong than disappointed” she explained then, as an excuse for her attempt to shut Sirius' enthusiasm “he's still beyond weak and his condition are fare from stable.”

He'd been awake for almost a minute, and Sirius held his hand the whole time. He knew he was hearing him. He knew the slight squeeze of his hand was intentional. 

“How do you know?”  
“I just know.”  
“Yes, but how?”

Sirius shrug off. He was beginning to get angry.

“Would you fucking trust-”  
“Language, young man!”

Sirius sighed. To Mrs Pomfrey he would always be a young man, as he was in Hogwarts as well. Remus tried to put some sense into him:

“The hand moving could be unintentional, a reflex...”  
“I'm telling you he was himself.”  
“Even if he was” intervened again Poppy “that doesn't mean he's out of danger. Quite the contrary. He's suffered too much damage. It's a miracle he made it this far. Albus told me that apparently they did what they could to keep him barely alive, but to me they stopped doing that after a while. He could be gone any minute. It's like they didn't need him to be alive anymore.”

Sirius and Alastor looked at each other. They never spoke about that suspect again, but they both knew the other was thinking the same thing: Poppy's word were another proof. He was just being abandoned from everybody: first Albus, then the Death Eaters themselves. Yet Sirius liked to believe that the other members of the Order wouldn't have let him die. Even Alastor, a war machine with the social skills of a rock who had always openly hated Snape, wouldn't have let him down like that. He still couldn't believe his suspects. There had to be a reasonable, logic explanation they could not see. 

They were all in the living room once again, except for the kids, that were upstairs, and except for Albus, who was still in Hogwarts. He didn't came visit Snape once in those 27 hours. Everybody checked out for him and asked how he was doing, except for him. It was like he didn't want to see him again. Sirius hoped it was because of the guilt. 

Sirius fought to find some words that could help him out, and failed miserably. Everything in what was happening to Snape was absolutely wrong. And he had a good amount of blame for it too. If he hadn't chickened out of what they could have become, he'd probably be there with them now. Or somewhere else being happy, not in a bed in a guest room fighting for his life. 

Poppy said she would've come to visit the next day, if nothing happened before. She would have tried to come every day until September, but then the new year would have begun and they'd had to figure out how to take care of Severus themselves. 

“If he survives until then”, she added grimly.

Sirius totally forgot about Hogwarts. The kids would have been there, Albus too. Maybe he wasn't visiting because he was too busy finding a new Potion Master. He asked Poppy, who told him that Severus had already a replacement. 

'That was quick', Sirius thought. He and Alastor shared another glare. He had all the time to find a replacement, didn't he? He knew that Severus, dead or alive, wouldn't have been able to attend the new year. 

They really needed to talk to Albus. 

***

Days would go on without Sirius visiting Severus anymore. They told him he woke another couple of times, for just a few seconds, but he couldn't dare to approach him again. He was too afraid that every moment would be the last one. He couldn't bear the idea of losing him again already. Luckily, Molly was still there, and Remus and Tonks moved there to help. 

Sometimes he would peek on Severus' room to see how things were going and leave without even going inside. He couldn't look at him. He could tell he was healing slowly, maybe too slowly to survive in the end. It all depended by him, Poppy said. On his own will. And he seemed not to have all that will. Sirius could understand that. Everybody abandoned him in the end. Everyone, even Sirius. He didn't have the guts to face the reality, just as his teenager self. He wasn't changed. He wasn't mature. Just a big boy who suffered lots of death and still couldn't cope with the idea of grieving. But he wasn't already dead, was he? But he was going to be. 

Sirius would spend most of his time in his room, on his bed, fearing the moment someone would step in saying that Severus was gone.

Things changed one afternoon, one week later the conversation with Poppy. He was in the hallway, peeking again in Severus' bedroom, and he saw Hermione Granger sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. That was strange. He knew that, sometimes, Remus or Tonks would stay with him for a little while. He took a big breath and stepped into the room, quietly. Hermione saw him and stood up, but she didn't look startled or guilty as he thought she should have been.

“What are you -”  
“Shhh” Hermione hushed, a finger on her mouth. Sirius studied the situation. Severus was sleeping on the side. She had a book in his hand, and her wand was on a little Lumos to let her read without hurting his eyes in case he would wake up. Sirius made a tentative step closer to look at him. He didn't look any better. He still looked like the ghost of a skeleton. The bruises on his face turned from black to violet and yellow, making him look incredibly sick. Someone put a t-shirt on him. Crookshanks was on the bed next to Severus, purring furiously, his slim hand on the fur. There was a candle lit on the bedside table. It seemed like a scene from a dream. Sirius couldn't take his eyes off of him. He seemed so little and fragile. No one could imagine how strong he really was. What horrible things he suffered.

“What are you doing?” whispered Sirius, as quiet as he could.  
“I'm reading” she whispered back, waving at her book.  
“I can see that, but -”  
“We are taking turns”  
“We?”  
“Me and the others” she murmured “we get here, read a book, study – well, at least I do – so if he stirs like he's having a nightmare or he's having cramps there's someone around to comfort him.”  
“Cramps?”  
“The side effects of the Cruciatus...”  
“Ah, yes. Those can be tricky.”

They remained silent for a couple of minutes, looking at him breathing. 

“Will they ever go away?” she asked suddenly, with a broken voice. Sirius put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed gently. He let those poor kids taking care of Severus while he should've done that.  
“They will. It's just a matter of time. I promise you.”

That's what Sirius should have done from the very beginning, if he wasn't too scared to do something around him.  
Because of the fear of losing him, he was losing him already.


	14. Hand language

The kids were excited that Sirius would be part of their busy schedule to keep Severus company. Plus, school would've begun shortly and they wouldn't have been there anymore. They had to figure out how to stay with Severus on their own. Sirius promised he would have been there for him. He would have been with him. He found out that Remus and Tonks knew about their plans and agreed to keep an eye on Severus themselves. They would take the night shifts, so the kids could sleep. Molly knew about that as well, and she weren't happy at first, but her children wouldn't let her stop them until she eventually gave up. She would help sometimes, too. Hermione thought that having someone constantly close that would talk to him and let him know that there were people waiting for him to get better would have helped him get back to reality and heal. 

Everybody would do something in the room: Hermione would study, repeating out loud things she was learning, so she could memorize them – and sometimes she would say something bad on purpose, hoping he would correct her; Ronald would read him a book about the history of the Chudley Cannons, explaining him why they were the best Quidditch team ever; Harry would read him the Daily Prophet commenting all the news, asking him for his opinion – even if would never respond to him, it was important to let him know that someone was there, waiting for him. The twins would experiment their new tricks, especially the ones working in the dark, and sharing their ideas with Severus; Ginny would tell him all about her friends, and the last year's gossip, asking him what he thought would have happened that year. Silly, trivial, little things that would help him cling to reality. Their efforts were so pure and selflessness that deeply moved Sirius to tears. He would have wanted to hug them all, one by one.

Crookshanks would be there as well, never leaving Severus' side. So much that they would leave food and water in that room, so he wouldn't move around the house meowing out loud so Severus would know he was not leaving him. It was like he wanted to protect him. He would constantly stay on the bed. They could tell Severus could feel him the most because they would find his hands on the fur. Sometimes, when he would wake up – because he was waking up more – he would pet him. Some other times he would stir on the bed or turn on a side. Medicines were having their effects and Poppy said that he was really getting better, but the recovery would have been really long. The bones were the first ones to heal. He was really too weak to do anything, but he wouldn't have had any problem walking again, as Poppy feared in the first place. He would have needed to build muscles again, but his stomach couldn't bear all those potions without solid food – which he couldn't stand either. They had to give him little doses now and then, and be careful with the replenishment potion. It was all a matter of time and constancy, and they had both. 

Poppy thought that maybe, just maybe, he was on the right way, but he was really weak. Just be awake for few seconds or turn to a side (apparently he was more comfortable that way) would exhaust him deeply. After a Cruciatus Cramp, he could faint and having everyone panic. He couldn't speak and his vision was not getting better, but Poppy would have dealt with that later. 

“One thing at the time”, she said. 

The worst thing were the nightmares. Sometimes he would wake up suddenly and scream like he was being skinned alive, and then faint or having immediately a bad cramp, which would devastate him and leave him absolutely drained. In those cases, they could just fill him up with Dreamless Potion and Replenishment Potion and hope he wouldn't throw them up, which would have been even worse in his conditions, while Crookshank would cry desperately. 

Those were not easy days and that was not an easy task, but the kids refused to leave his side or let the adults do the job; they would've stayed with him until they could. 

Sirius would begin a couple of hours at night, so Tonks and Remus could finally get some more sleep. He felt so guilty he left them deal with him alone at night. No wonder they were always so tired in the morning. 

He didn't know were to begin. The first times he would apologize for having being distant. He wouldn't talk about his feeling, but he admitted he was scared. He would ramble for a while, then let Tonks take his place (she would read a book to him). Then, one night, he thought that Severus deserved something better than some pointless rambling. He began talking to him about the years of school. How stupid he was. How immature and irresponsible he still was, in some ways. How he whished he would forgive him for not being with him those first days. Yes, he was there the first time he woke up, but what was the point in being there just the first time and then disappear? 

“I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry. Again. And I'm sorry that apparently I'm so fucked up I keep apologizing to you. I really hope I'll stop having reasons to apologize at you someday. I just... I just feel so stupid!” Crookshanks lifted his head slowly, looking bad at him. Sirius lowered his voice “I should have never treated you the way I did. All those pranks... I should have just let you be. I just couldn't cope with... with what happened between us. So I thought it would have just been easier for me to get back to what we were and never mention that kiss ever again. I mean, I... I was so scared, it was all so different, and then there was Lily, and James, and...” he sighed, trying to get more comfortable on the chair. He should've brought an armchair; something comfortable with pillows and everything. 

It seemed so pointless talk to him like that, but Hermione thought it could help him, so he had to keep going. He sighed and looked at Severus again and he froze. 

He was awake. 

He was on his side, facing Sirius, with a hand on the cat, as he was before: but his eyes were slightly open, although they were still blurried, and Sirius could tell that he was tense, sensing that someone was in the room with him. 

“Severus...?” 

No response. Sirius reached out and took his free hand in his. Severus filched, but he didn't move. Crookshanks raised his hand again, still looking bad at him. 

“It's me. I'm Sirius. Can you hear me?”

He moved his hand a little. A little movement. 

“Can you talk...?”

He didn't move. Was that a no? Was that a way to tell him he was too tired? He was still awake. His eyes were open. Sirius had an idea. 

“Let's try this: One squeeze for a yes, two for a no. Can you do this?”

One slight movement that he took as a squeeze. He thought to a question he had to say no, just to be sure it was not a reflex, as Remus suggested: 

“Do you know what day is it?”

One movement. Then another one.  
Sirius was elated. 

“It's... it's a Thursday – no, a Friday, we are way past midnight.”

He couldn't believe that. They were talking – in his own way, but he was talking. 

“The first time you woke up – you knew that was me, right? You squeezed my hand on purpose, didn't you?”

One squeeze again. Sirius smiled. 

“I knew that. Listen up – I'm giving you few drops of the Replenishment potion while you're awake. It will give you strength. Is that ok to you?” 

One movement. Sirius left his hand, promising he would have taken it back immediately, then took the vial and helped him drink three drops of potion. It was strong, so he would've feel better. Everything that could keep him up was good. He took his hand again. He would have talked to him all night long. Maybe just a minute or two, and then he would've let him sleep again. He'd wanted to tell him everything again. He wondered what he'd heard of his monologue. But then an idea went through is mind.

“Listen... I know that you're tired and everything sucks, but I need to ask you a couple of question. Can you answer? Do you feel like you can do it?”

One squeeze. 

“All right. The first is... how long did you stayed there? More or less? Two weeks?”

Two squeezes.

“Three weeks?”

Two squeezes. Sirius wanted to cry.

“Four weeks...?”

One squeeze. Sirius sighed. 

“Forgive us. Please. We came as soon as we knew. We were all worried sick. Even Moody. We just wanted to get you out of there. We didn't know. I swear to you. We didn't know.”

He didn't move. Yet he could see something on his damaged face.  
A frown. 

“Did you think we left you there?”

One squeeze. 

“We never – ever would have. But – please don't take this the wrong way – as far as you know... did Albus knew from the beginning? Did he knew you were there this whole time?”

One squeeze.


	15. I can keep a fucking promise

It took other two weeks to organize a reunion with Albus. School would begin shortly. The kids were already packing, even if they didn't want to leave their professor alone. Sirius promised he would have taken care of him until Christmas time, when they would have been together again. 

“I promise you he'll be a lot better”

He really started to believe it. Even Poppy was beginning to be slightly optimistic, which to him was like he was already out of danger. He could have small conversation with their hand method. He was beginning to stay awake more than a few minutes. He could even sit on the bed, back on pillows, if he would – but then he would always be so tired he could sleep for hours. Nightmares and Cruciatus Cramps were his major issue, but that was only a matter of time. There was nothing they could do for those – or his eyes. He could stand more light in the room, but they would hurt all the time, and he couldn't see properly. He could tell if it was day or night or tell if someone was in the room, but that was it. When he would get better, they would have begin to take care of that as well. 

Sirius and Alastor would tell the others it was imperative for them to talk to Albus, but they wouldn't tell them why. They didn't even know how to face the issue. And, most of all, they didn't want the kids to know. They had to spend a whole year with him, and had to feel safe. Plus, again, maybe they were wrong. They had to talk to him before the new year in school would begin.

The reunion began as usual. Updates, what to do, future plans – now that they were out of a spy, things were being really difficult – Snape's conditions, and so on. Albus said he didn't have had any response from the Death Eaters, but Sirius didn't know if that was true or not. 

Alastor began talking out of the blue. Reunion was almost over and no one was suspecting a thing. Maybe it was intentional, Sirius thought, so Albus wouldn't have time to prepare a lie. Alastor said what he previously told Sirius: that Snape's rescue had been too easy and that he knew something was wrong – and, most of all, that he thought Albus knew why.

“Albus, why there was no one there?”

He wouldn't talk, surprised – not that much, though. Just slightly surprised. And not impressed at all. Sirius almost wished he would tell something right away, clear up his image, tell them how wrong they were. But he didn't.

“I have my theory” continued Moody, walking up and down the room “I think that you had this memories from the beginning of Snape's captivity. But you knew Voldemort would use him as a bait if you'd move immediately, so you decided to wait until he would be sick and tired of trying. But he would keep him alive because, well, he was also a warning to the others.”

Albus stood there, pale, his face cold as a stone. 

“What do you want me to say, Alastor?”  
“Just... tell me I'm wrong.”

“I will not. Because you're right.” 

Seeing that no one was saying anything, Dumbledore kept talking.

“I did what I had to do for the good of the Order. If we went right away, they would have killed us all. I waited for his protective spells in Hogwarts to weaken. That meant that they didn't care anymore, that they would have let him die, so the defenses would be down and we could finally move and take him.”  
“Or what remains of him”, said Moody. 

“I have to think to a war, Alastor. I couldn't risk the whole mission to save just one person. I had to do it. That's the only reason we are all standing here now, and Severus is still alive.”  
“You call that alive, Albus?” Sirius yelled, on the verge of the tears “you left him there for a month when he could be saved so much earlier! He could have just some bad beatings, a Cruciatus, not... not what they did. Not all of that. He could never recover.”  
“He will. I know that they didn't mess up with his mind enough to ruin him. He will recover. He has to. He's the only real potionist we have. He's still useful to us, even if he cannot be a spy anymore.”

Sirius was appalled by that comment. He glanced at the others. Remus was as dismayed as he was. Tonks had covered her mouth with her hands. Alastor and Kingsley's faces were pure anger. That gave him the strength to go on, but he couldn't, because someone else decided to talk: 

“Would you have done that if one of my kids was there?” 

Molly's voice startled them all. They turned to watch her. She was close to Arthur, and they were both incredibly solemn, holding hands. “Would you have done it if it was Ginny, Ronald? Or me?”

Albus shook his head: 

“Molly, we all have priorities. Some people are more... disposable... than others.”  
“Disposable?!” Sirius shouted, getting on his feet, Remus promptly holding him “He was your spy, for fuck's sake! He did everything for you! He would suffer those things – everything – just for us! And not only you had the guts to pretend everything was fine while they were doing the inexplicable on him, you also say that he was disposable!”  
“I knew he wouldn't have talked. I couldn't risk someone's life for someone who would have been no threat to us.”  
“But what if he spoke? You put our own lives at risk!”  
“He wouldn't have. I know him. He could bear it.”  
“Barely...” 

Sirius tried to calm down. He felt his eyes watery. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't. None of them could. 

“Why are you so upset, Sirius?” Albus asked, puzzled “You, of all people, shared this thought with me, didn't you? Didn't you put his life in danger while you were in Hogwarts? And that time, I still didn't made him a priority to protect you and Remus. You seemed fine with that.”  
Sirius paled.   
“That... that's not...”  
“... not the same? Well, that's odd, because I find it strangely related.”  
“I... that was different. I was a teenager. I was an idiot. You are none of those things. I cannot believe you would do that to Severus. He's one of us, Albus! And you took him back to... to do what? Potions for you? To feel innocent? To think that you did the right thing?”

Albus sighed.

“Severus knew what the price was, Sirius.”  
“No, he didn't! Not that!” 

He moved to the door, shaking his head. He didn't want to heard from him no more. He opened the door – he wanted to go to Severus, see how he was – but he stopped there. 

Just outside the door, there was Severus sitting on the stairs. He was staring blankly at a distant point. He looked so small in trousers and t-shirt, with the shaved head and Crookshanks on his lap. The kids were with him, sitting on the stairs as well, their young faces filled with rage. They heard it all. Severus had his head on Fred Weasley's shoulder, while Hermione was rubbing his back with one hand, comforting him. Her expression, though, was far from reassuring. 

Severus raised his head, slowly, oh, so slowly, trying to focus to a point. He was trying to look past him. To look at Albus. His vision was still blurred. Fred put an hand on his shoulder. Severus tried to speak. 

“You...” whispered. He tried to swallow, still unable to talk properly. Four weeks of screaming in pain did great damages to his voice. He sighed and tried to speak again, his mouth trembling. He finally managed to talk, looking at the direction he assumed Albus was.

“You told me... that... you would have... saved me... immediately. I...” he froze, as he was having a cramp of some sort. His head snapped back, his back arched, eyes closed. Cruciatus cramps. They just had to go away. His whole body went stiff and contorted. The kids were there, supporting him, calming him, making all the other feeling absolutely useless. 

Ginny Weasley would whisper soothing words in his ear, quietly, so quiet, trying to reassure him, telling him that everything was going to be all right. Hermione would touch slightly his neck, massaging, trying to ease the cramps. Sirius couldn't help but notice that they were not using magic. At those conditions, it could only worsen the situation. Little doses of potions were all he could take. They were doing an excellent job with him – better than he ever could, he thought bitterly. 

The kids had pure rage on their faces while Albus and the others tried to approach him in the middle of the cramps. Ronald, who was the one sitting ahead of the others with Harry, raised one hand to tell them to stop there. His face was so deathly serious no one dared to step closer. It took five seconds that Sirius felt like ages. Severus relaxed again, trying to sit up straight despite the trembling, Fred and George supporting him. He finally could finish his sentence: “I trusted... you and you... didn't...” he breathed, swallowed, trying to talk again “... come until... I was... almost... dead.”

Sirius looked at Albus. He looked sincerely devastated – was he, really? He was sure he was now. How could he not see how the decision he took affected Severus until that moment? Did he not see the consequences? Didn't he think that Severus would have gone through this long, exhausting healing process? 

“You... Severus, my child, I'm sorry. Just try to understand that... I really came as soon as I could to... to save everyone. As soon as it would've been safe. I really couldn't imagine what they would have done to you... I had to think about the others, too. It killed me, but i had to wait. I couldn't risk anyone. I would have done the same for the others. You would have done the same if that was me.”

Severus shook his head, slowly, as every sudden movement made him sick, shaking uncontrollably, the twins trying to hold him as gentle as they could. 

“No. I would... not. I can keep... a fucking... promise.” everyone went silent. Sirius pretended he just didn't hear him curse. Well, of course, he could scream every profanity he could if he'd wanted to. He ad all the rights. 

Harry was the first to stand up. Sirius could tell that that conversation was not over. But they wanted to protect their professor – they didn't want him to listen no more. The others followed him in standing, enraged but so delicate around their professor, taking the cat from his lap, helping him standing and going up the stairs. The twins would go up with him, arms around his waist, basically carrying him since it was his first time standing but trying not to make him notice, Ronald a step behind with an hand on his back to support him. One step at the time, they would go up the stairs. He could hear the twins sweetly whispering to Severus:

“Let's go upstairs, Professor. We've heard enough, haven't we?” 

They were all so soothing, reassuring, calm. Ginny and Hermione were already on top of the stairs, waiting, trying to keep a peaceful expression on their faces in case Severus would suddenly get his sight back and see them. Harry was the last one to go up, behind Ron, still looking at them, disgusted by what he just heard, looking at Dumbledore. 

That was not over.

Of course, Sirius could understand Albus. He was sick just thinking of what he did, but he really saved them all. They didn't suffer a single death. But at what price? Was it really worth it? What about Severus? What about their conscience?


	16. Hallucinations

Dear Professor,   
we're back in Hogwarts and everything is fine. The New Potion Master is good, but nothing like you. We promise we'll do our best so when you'll get back we'll not be the disaster you were used to, and we promise we won't make a mess of your class. 

Neville hasn't blown up a cauldron yet, which is kinda odd, but we'll keep you updated. 

It's too soon to tell which house will win the Cup, but Ravenclaw has already the first place.  
Stay safe! 

 

The letter was signed by all the kids and came with some little gifts as well: mostly Honeydukes sweets, even if it was too soon for him to eat those. He would try some crumble off a biscuit, though, while Sirius would eat the rest. 

He was getting better. Him and Sirius would spend a lot of time together. Severus would sleep most of the time, but he was getting better. He tried to walk everyday, and Sirius would help him going up and down the stairs. He wanted to get better, but sometimes he would just try too hard and fall exhausted on the bed, panting. Sirius would be by his side. Sometimes he took some time off to sleep, and in those cases Remus or Tonks would be with him. He felt guilty and jealous at the same time, because he wanted to show him that he would be always there – and somehow didn't want to share him with the others. But that was another way of being selfish. Severus was not his possession because of a kiss in the teenager years. And his life was totally different. He could make some friends. Him and Remus would share a common passion for novels, and he would play magic chess with Tonks all the time. 

Severus was always really tired and sick, but seemed to enjoy the company. He seemed to miss Crookshanks, even though he would've never admitted it. He insisted with Hermione that she would take him back to school with her. 

“He will... protect you” had said “I'd rather prefer him... to be... with you.”

The truth was, he admitted to Sirius, that if he'd had had a pet in school he would have wanted it with him all the time. He never had a pet, and never thought of having one. But he was surprised of how much he enjoyed having one close to him. So, after warning him, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and tried to lick his hand, making Severus laugh for the first time since he was there. Or since they'd ever met. It was more of a soft chuckle, but it made Sirius' heart pound with joy. 

They were being silly and trivial. They were in war, in desperate and dark times, and they would cling to everything that could make them feel better. Sirius had to think about the war, but he didn't want Severus to think about it anymore. 

One evening Severus brought it up, though. That was a scary time for them all. He was still having horrible nightmares and some cramps, but the few times he'd been awake a little more he would be rational. That time it was different. Sirius could tell immediately that something was wrong. He had watery eyes and a sad expression when Sirius entered the room. He was hugging his pillow. He'd been alone just few minutes since Tonks left, and she said that he was all right. So what was that face, then? He sent a little light with the wand to Remus in his room, to call him. That was their signal, so they didn't have to leave the room. He could hear his steps almost immediately while approaching Severus.

“Severus, it's me. Are you all right? Are you sick?”

As his only answer, he hugged the pillow a little closer. His eyes were wide, pointing on a far distance.

“When they come, kill me before they get to me.”

Sirius froze. His voice was crooked and hurt, but he didn't hesitated. Maybe he was not feeling pain like he would the other times. Or he didn't care. And he was not shaking. He was unnervingly still. That was Severus, but somehow he was not. Tonks and Remus showed up in the doorstep. Sirius gestured them to come close, silently. 

“No one will come, Severus. You're safe. It's all right.”  
“They will come. And you will have to kill me.”

It was like he was talking from another place – a deep pit, a cave. Sirius had goosebumps. Remus and Tonks were pale, looking at him. Tonks was the first one getting back on track and mimed silently “I'm writing to Poppy”, before leaving the room as calmly as she could. Remus would approach him, trying to make him reason. 

“Severus... do you recognize me? It's Remus.”  
“Did you take your potion?”  
“What... yes, I did. I took it.”  
“Bad. You're bad wolf. Wolves are bad.”

Remus nodded. 

“Yes. You're right. I'm sorry. Severus, where are you now?”  
“You didn't eat me.”  
“No, I didn't.”  
“You had to. I had to die that day.”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. 

“Do you know where are you now?”  
“We will lose. We are only waiting for our day to come.”  
“We will not. Severus, everything will be fine.”  
“Promise you'll eat me.”  
“I promise. But there will be no need. It will be fine.”

Severus shook his head, tears falling from his wide eyes. He would not blink. 

“Severus, where are we now?”  
“We?”  
“Me, you, Sirius, Tonks – you remember us, yes? Where are we?”

He sat, looking at the ceiling. He was crying without blinking. It was just water from his eyes. Remus reached for his shoulder, but then he started screaming before he could touch him. He fell again on the bed, contorting – Cruciatus Cramps, and he was hallucinating.

“DON'T – NO!”

Remus reached for him, trying to calm him down, but there was no use – he would just scream, trapped in his hallucination and pain. Sirius reached for the vial of Dreamless Potion – it was the only thing that could calm him down. But he had to wait for the cramps to ease, or he would've suffocate – what spells could he use to?... – then Severus started screaming: 

“YOU KNOW I WON'T TELL, YOU FUCKING – I WON'T!”  
“Severus, you're not there! It's over! That's not -”  
“GO TO HELL YOU –”  
“Severus, come back!” Sirius was almost screaming in his ear, and Severus spat on his face. Sirius cleaned his cheek and saw blood on his finger. He had red lips. He was spitting blood. He had blood going down his nose. Sirius took a big breath, trying not to panic.   
“YOU TOLD ME YOU'D COME BACK! I TRUSTED YOU AND YOU BETRAYED ME, YOU OLD SAGGY GRYFFINDOR COCKSUCK--” 

He collapsed on the bed before ending his profanities. He had blood coming out of his mouth and nostrils, and halfway opened eyes that made him look like he was dead. But he was not. They didn't know what to do. They cleaned him, put potions in his mouth and waited. 

Poppy said that it was normal, he was more aware, maybe the times they thought he was having nightmares he was just hallucinating in his sleep. He had suffered a bad trauma, and still had to cope with that. He lost all that blood because of the bad cramp and agitation. She said it was normal, and told them to keep her updated. 

Sirius slept with him that night, as Padfoot, on his bed. He figured Crookshanks was somehow calming, and wanted to try the effect of a pet sleeping with him. Halfway through the night he woke up. Severus had turned on his side, put his slender arm around him and pet his fur, humming a lullaby while crying. Then, with that distant and scary voice he used earlier, he would tell himself not to cry. That he didn't deserve to cry. That he was a good for nothing. That the only use they could make of him was fucking him. That he wasn't even good at that. Because if he would have been good, they would have let him go. But he was not good. He learned nothing. He couldn't even fuck properly. Then he would cry again humming his lullaby. Sirius didn't dare change and waited until Severus was asleep again. Then he transformed and sat on the armchair, wondering.


	17. Anger issues and revelations

Tonks had two words for what was happening to Severus: suppressed anger. 

“Think about it! He lived four weeks in hell for him, and not only he was abandoned, he also heard Albus saying that he was disposable and that he waited because he wouldn't have betrayed us and he didn't want to risk losing someone else. It's like saying: 'well, you can also die, I won't care until you do something to me'. All this time – he had no real friend, no real life, only work and being a spy for the Order. Everyone would snap at some point.”  
“You're right, but that wasn't just some snapping. I think he's going mental.”  
“Would you blame him?” 

Sirius sighed and shook his head. They were – him, Tonks and Remus – in the kitchen at Grimmauld place. Severus was dosed up with a generous amount of Dreamless Potion (his stomach could bear it better now) and they knew he wouldn't wake up anytime soon. They needed to help him. If he'd had another of those attacks, it could have been critical for his recovery. Plus, they wanted to help him heal before the others could tell that something was wrong with him. Sirius's fear was Severus locked up into St. Mungo's psychiatric ward 'for his own good'. That was the last thing he deserved. 

“Maybe it's also the lack of sleep he suffered” suggested Remus “He would always wake up at some point. He didn't have a good, proper, heavy sleep yet. He slept out exhaustion, most of the times. Now that he can take more potion he could sleep more without dreams, nor waking up, and get better. The lack of real sleep can be really tricky, even for the sharpest of the minds. Maybe the Death Eaters were counting on that, too. Didn't you say that they wouldn't let him sleep for days?”  
Sirius nodded, too sad at the mention of that awful memory. 

“Then maybe it's all these things combined”, nodded Tonks “He will have to confront his anger, though. Sooner or later. Or he could never get better.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“He should speak with Albus.”  
“No way he's talking to Albus again!” Spat Sirius. Tonks was not impressed.  
“Calm down, Romeo, Juliet can take care of herself.”  
“What?”

He turned to Tonks, who was sipping her tea. Remus was looking at her with a strange face. The 'why the fuck are you bringing this up now' type of face. Tonks looked at him, shrugging, and turned back to Sirius. 

“I'm saying that Severus can surely face Albus. He won't need your protection.”  
“But you called him...”  
“Juliet. And you're Romeo. Well, you can also switch.”

Remus facepalmed. 

“What? Like it's a secret. Come on.”  
“What... what's a secret now?”  
“You and Severus.”  
“Like...”  
“Like, you and Severus. Being, you know... together? In love? A couple?”

Remus groaned. Sirius tried to take some time. He rose, took his bottle of firewhisky and three glasses, and prayed that the alcohol would distract Tonks from her subject. But there she was, all smiles, pouring firewhisky in her tea. Sirius didn't talk for a while, but he knew he's have to say something at some point.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Tonks laughed. Remus put his head on the table.

“Sirius, it's so obvious! The way you look at him, the way he always asks if you're there – does he ask you if me or Remus are in the room?”

Sirius shook his head. He didn't know he would ask for him when he was not there. Before he could control himself, he smiled. Tonks pointed at him, telling Remus:

“See? Look at him!”  
“It's the alcohol.”

Tonks sighed. 

“You know what? Fine. Don't tell us.”  
“There's nothing to tell.”  
“Fine.”  
“I swear to you.”  
“I believe you.”  
“There's nothing to tell.”  
“I know.”

Remus groaned again, sitting straight on the chair. He poured himself some whisky as well.

“Are you done?”  
“Yes.”

They drank in silence. Sirius kept thinking: what did they know? Did Severus told Tonks something? Maybe he did – well, there was nothing wrong about that. There has been something with him and yes, he couldn't deny that he always had something for him. And what they were having in those days –

“Does he really ask about me?”

Tonks smiled, and Remus sighed. They both answered:

“Yes.”  
“All right” Sirius poured himself more firewhisky. It had no sense to pretend that nothing what's going on “what did he tell you?” 

Remus and Tonks looked at each other, then Tonks talked:

“Well... what do you think he told us?”  
“Is this a trick?”  
“No! No, it's just... well... maybe he told me something and maybe he was being delusional, so...”  
“Well, the kiss was real, so -”  
“There was a kiss?!” 

They both looked at him, shocked. Sirius looked at them for a long moment, making a mental note not to trust Tonks' innocent face ever again:

“He didn't tell you, did he?”  
“Not a word.”

Sirius sighed.  
“All right, then. You played me good. I'll tell you.”

He told them everything. Those kisses, his rage, his being an asshole to Severus and trying to kill him – Remus called him an idiot multiple times at that point – their distance, his trying to avoid him, and the fact that, in the memories, he would think to protect him. 

“Wow. You're really a jackass” commented Tonks in the end, chuckling.  
“I am. And now I don't know what to do.”  
“Well, there's nothing you can do now”, she shrugged “except be there for him and see how things go, and all that.”  
“She's right” said Remus.  
“But the most important thing is... what would you like to happen with him? Because clearly he cares about you in a deeper way than he does for me or Remus. And if you make him believe something and then chicken out again, you could seriously break his heart. And he's not really stable right now. So think about it.”

Sirius nodded, and finished his glass silently, thinking about her words.  
Some minutes later he left them in the kitchen. They were still talking and chuckling, and didn't seem to notice him. Without even considering his own bed he went to Severus' bedroom, transformed, and cuddled up next to him.


	18. Snape's Memory pt.3

Sometimes only one would show up. Just before going to sleep. They would just do something and go. There was one in particular who would enter his cell only to piss on him and go away chuckling. His was a strange piss. Tasted bitter. He could still remember it. He wonders why that strange taste. Maybe it was the alcoholics, but they would all drink. After a while learned the different tastes of piss and cum. Some of those were bitter. Some incredibly salty. Others salty and bitter together. The worst was when they would shove their dicks into his mouth, suffocating him – and he would feel those dirty, uncut, raw, bestial cocks spurt that sticky substance in his sore throat – and that was the only thing he could eat. 

'You're disgusting'

He really was. He couldn't help it. He tried – he really tried to be good in his life. He wondered why things went down that way. He was always so unloved. But why? Weren't all human born the same? Then why some would have love and some others, some like him, would no? He couldn't help it. His mother loved him. But mothers are supposed to love you. He was loved by no one else, not even his father. No kids in school would play with him. He was ugly and poor. Things seemed to be always worse to those who were born ugly and poor. 

'It's not that. It's your fault. You are a bad person. You are rotted inside. Your appearance is a reflection of your soul.'

He was ugly. But he was smart. That was true – no one could deny it, not even the voice in his head. He was smart. And that was his only pass to a better life. He would study like mad. He would've shown them. They would have regretted it. They would have understand that he was special. 

'Yes, they really did. Look where you are now.'

He fucked up big time. He knew that from the moment he told the Dark Lord the Prophecy and he went after Lily. But there was no turning back at that point. All he could do was do right thing for once, and help the Order out. But he always asked himself why – why was he wrong from the very beginning? The Death Eaters were the only ones that could make him feel right. For a while. Was he so desperate for attention?

'Yes you are. And you had all the attention you always wanted. You were the star of that cell.'

They would always be in him, on him, all looking at him, reaching for him, aiming at him – he could not let them break him. He had to be strong. For Sirius. He didn't know why he had to defend him. But sometimes, later, when they began to show up less and he could sleep a little in his own blood and vomit and their piss – he would think of him. And why he still had him so dearly in his heart, despite their mutual hate. Then somehow he figured. He never had love. Never. The only persons that would care for him, aside from his mother, were Death Eaters, and now was clear that that was all fake. He could take his mother's love for granted sometimes, even though he still loved her dearly. But Sirius was not his relative. He was not his mother. He was not his friend. He could gain nothing from him. Yet he kissed him. He had lust and desire and held his hand. Those few precious moments were the only thing Severus could cling on. 

'He is loved by so many people. He could never want you.'

If only he could see how he looked at him...

He woke up.  
He could only see a little light. Maybe it was morning. He could tell that, but nothing more. Still blind. A lump in his throat, the familiar feeling – no, don't cry. He wanted to see. He wanted to see his body. How it was now. He wanted to see their faces. He could see something, some shadows, but he wanted to see, read, think, write. His sight got better for a while, then the improvement stopped. He wondered why. They would apply the potion everyday and he could smell it, there was nothing wrong with it. It was like he was refusing to see.

'Your eyes are dirty. You should clean them. But you never will. Because you are so dirty and it will never go away.'

He felt something on the bed with him. Something heavy. He turned on his side and reached out and touched it. Warm fur. Big cat. No. Not the cat. Dog. Padfoot. He sighed. 

'He could never love you that way'  
Go away. Please.  
'Never.'

He whimpered softly, hugging Sirius. 

If only he could cry. They told him that sometimes he would cry in his sleep. He knew, because he would wake up with tears on his face. But it was not the same thing. He needed to cry for real. Let all go. Be there. Be present. Forgive himself. Crying was a great force, the greatest of them all, and he couldn't stand its power. That voice would go away with his tears, he knew. But he couldn't. He couldn't let himself go. He had to protect himself. The voice was right. He could not cry.


	19. Sleep

Maybe confronting Albus was really a good idea, but they didn't share that idea with other people. Sirius didn't want to upset Severus. He was slowly getting better and he didn't want to ruin it. Plus, Albus didn't contact them to know how he was. Maybe he was feeling guilty, but wasn't that another way of abandoning him? Yet, Sirius was happier that way. He feared that somehow Albus could know Severus' late mental issues. 

He would be normal while awake. He would talk, answer to question, even chuckle at some joke. But during the night Sirius would hear that voice again. He made an experiment. When he slept there as a human, Severus wouldn't talk. When he would sleep as Padfoot, he would say the worst thing he ever heard a human being say to himself. He made long exhausting conversations of hatred and regret. Maybe during those states Severus wouldn't recognize Padfoot as Sirius. Maybe he – that part inside of him – would talk only when sleeping alone. He could sleep properly only when dosed with Sleepless Potions, but they didn't want to give him too much of that – they didn't want it to become an addiction. Sirius knew that he needed physical comfort – feeling safe and loved – but he didn't want that to come from his dog form. He needed human contact. The only real human contact he had in months was rape and some hand interaction with him and the kids. That was not good. He had to try to stay with him, hug him, having him trust people.

He didn't want to lie to him, but one night he had an idea. He told him he'd sleep on his chair, because being Padfoot all that time would be bad for his health. 

Severus just nodded, still talking to him for a while, but he could tell that Sirius was not comfortable. He felt guilty. Sirius was doing so much to him, and all he was doing was making him sleep on a chair or as a dog. And Sirius didn't want to sleep on another bed – he wanted to be as close as Severus, to make sure to wake up in case he needed something. So at some point he just asked:

“Do you want to sleep next to me as... as a human?”   
“Maybe just a couple of hours. This chair is killing me.”

He nodded. Then Sirius, slowly, telling Severus everything that was doing, took off his boots and climbed on the bed next to him. The bed was big enough to let them be close without touching. Sirius was face up on the covers, hands on his belly, and told Severus how he was. They stayed quiet for a while, then he noticed that Severus was breathing quicker than usual. He turned his face to him.

“Are you ok?”

Severus didn't know. He asked him, and now he was regretting it. He could sense his smell. A man's smell. A hint of alcohol – firewhisky? He would sometimes drink it up. Lots of them would drink. Lots of them had that breath while fucking him. What it was – something – an invitation? He was not ready. Maybe he could never be. Sirius moved, and he froze. 

“I'm on the side now. I'm facing you. Are you ok?”

Severus was feeling panic take over him like waves. He was not ready. He was not. Oh God, he was so not ready. What if Sirius wanted to... he asked him to sleep with him. What if he'd wanted more? He could not tell. He could not say no. He asked him. He could not back away now. 

Sirius was next to him, looking at him, suppressing the urge to touch him. He knew that something was wrong, but he didn't want to scare Severus. He had to overcome his fears himself. He would be there. 

“Do you want me to go out of the bed?”

YES! Severus wanted to scream yes with all his strength, but he couldn't. He asked him to sleep with him. This was his fault. 

“Severus. Talk to me. I'm here. Everything is fine. Just tell me. I'm still gonna be here. I will not go away. If you are uncomfortable, just tell me.”  
“I...” Severus was trembling, and Sirius was just devastated that he could not touch him nor comfort him yet. But he had to tell him. He couldn't do anything without his permission. He could just listen.   
“I... I asked you...”  
“Yes. And if you want I'll go on the armchair again. Really, that's not a problem.”

Severus started to cry softly, trembling. Sirius would not move.

“I don't want to cry” he whimpered. He sounded frightened.  
“Severus...” he whispered “... what is wrong? Please, tell me.”

Severus shook his head and sobbed. He couldn't help it. He didn't want to cry. He could not let himself go. But he could not stand it anymore. He had to tell him. Sirius would have been disgusted and left him forever. He would have kicked him out of Grimmauld Place. He would have tell the others. He didn't want to. But he had to tell him. Explain to him why he was so afraid of his body close to his. He owned him that. He was a dirty whore, a Death Eater's bitch, and he had to know what kind of scum he had into his house.

“I...” he tried to control his sobbing “I have to... tell you... something.”  
“I'm here. Tell me everything...”  
“I... what they did to me...”  
“Yes?...”  
“It's something that... that made me...” he hesitated. He was trembling and crying, despite his efforts not to, and he was hugging himself as tight as he could, curling up into a ball without even realizing it. He was trying to defend himself.   
“Tell me” Sirius whispered “it's fine.”   
“They didn't... just... torture me...”

Sirius understood. Severus was going to tell him that he was raped. He fought he urge to tell him that he already knew. He wanted to put him out of his misery, but he knew that he had to tell him himself. Plus, it was his own decision to let him know. Sirius shouldn't have known that in the first place. He felt his own eyes fill with tears. He was so sorry to see Severus that way. All he wanted was to hug him and kiss him until everything would go away, but he had no right. Severus had to ask him, if he wanted to. All Sirius could do was stay with him, listen to him, and tell him that he was there.

“They...” Severus was panicked, but he kept going. He had to tell him “they... they raped me. They... used me... I was... I was... they used me... they... they did all those things... I never did... all I had was... those kisses with you... do you remember them?”  
“Yes, I do” he murmured, realizing that they'd never really talked about it. He mentioned them when he was halfway dying, so he couldn't possibly know that yes, he remembered them very well. 

Severus kept talking:

“I... I didn't know... there were so many... they would make turns... they did... they did...” he tried to talk more despite his sobbing. Sirius was not talking, and he tried not to figure out his face. Maybe he was disgusted. Maybe he was lusting. Maybe now that he knew he'd wanted to fuck him too. And he had to accept him, right? Because he asked him to stay on the bed with him. He was so afraid. More than he was with the Death Eater. Because there, he had a purpose. He could cling on his mission. He had to defend them all. But now, with Sirius, he was totally defenseless. 

“Forgive me. I know that I'm disgusting and... I'm not worth it. But... please, please, forgive me” he whispered in the end, trembling, unable to go on. 

“Severus...” Sirius was crying. He didn't know what to do “... please. Don't do this.”  
Severus shook his head, hugging himself, begging him to forgive him.   
“There's nothing to forgive... please... please, don't be afraid. Tell me. I'm here.”  
“I'm so sorry. I let them... I'm so sorry... you had to knew... what I've become...”

Sirius couldn't stand it anymore. He was so close to Severus, yet so far away, closed in his blindness, sure that Sirius was hating him. Then he had an idea.

“Severus. Touch my face.”

Severus breathed in, trying to process that request. He had to touch him. On the face. Why? But he did ask him to be on the bed, he was his host, he had to obey. Slowly, trembling, terrified, he reached out one shaking, slim hand where he guessed Sirius face was. And there it was. His beard. His lips. His eyes. His tears. 

“Sirius...” he couldn't cry. But he wanted it so much. Oh, he wanted to cry so badly. He wanted to cry to sleep and wake up and cry again. He remembered the voice: 'He could never love you that way'. 

“Can you... read my face now? Can you see my reaction?” murmured Sirius on his hand, hoping he would understand now “I'm here. I'm listening to you. Please.”  
Severus shook his head. 

“Severus...” he began to say, the other man's shaking hand still on his face. He hoped he could tell his expression and feel his tears. He hoped he could sense sincerity in his words “There's nothing to forgive. What they did to you was... unspeakable and horrible. Yet you are still here... and you are talking to me. You are the bravest person I know. The strongest. It's me – I should ask for your forgiveness” he sobbed. Severus began wiping his tears, now both hands on his face “please. Please let me touch your face too. Please.”

Severus hesitated, still shaking. Then he nodded, quietly. Sirius could tell he was still afraid of him, but all he wanted was to show him that there was nothing to be scared of anymore. He was safe. He was finally safe. He raised just one hand, caressing his cheek as gently as he could. 

“I love you so much” murmured Sirius “you are so strong, and amazing. You are not disgusting... you are worth everything in the world. I'm so glad you trusted me enough to tell me. I... want you to feel safe. Nothing will never happen to you again. I'll protect you with my life if necessary. I would never – ever – hurt you.”

Severus nodded slowly. They stood like this on the bed for a while, breathing, trying to calm down, hands on their faces. Sirius would whisper sweet words to him. How proud of him was, how strong he was, how he was far beyond disgusting. That he could trust him. That he could tell him everything he wanted. That he would be there with him no matter what. 

“I...” whispered Severus, at one point “I have this thing. I... I wanted you to be on the bed with me. Then I got scared.”   
“Why?”  
“Because... the smell. Man's smell. Like...”  
“Like the others?”  
“Yes. I... I'm sorry.”  
“Why? Because I should take a shower?”

They chuckled. That made Severus' tension ease up a little. 

“Yet you wouldn't tell me.”  
“No.”  
“Why?”  
“Because... you're helping me. And I'm your host. I owe you. I couldn't just... change my mind.”  
“You can always do. I wouldn't dare telling you that you owe me anything. You don't. In fact, I owe you. If I'm alive is because of you. Understood?”

Severus nodded. He was still shaking, but he was less afraid.

“I wish I could see you.”  
“You will. It's only a matter of time.”  
“I hope you're right.”  
“I am.”

They stood like that for some more time, breathing, relaxing, accustoming to the feel of the other body close. Severus stirred and caressed his face slightly, then sighed. Sirius caressed his cheek with a thumb, to let him know he was still awake. 

“Are you all right?”  
“Oh, Sirius. I wish I could... I wish i could cry”  
“Why wouldn't you?”  
“I'm so scared. I'm so afraid to let go. I'm so scared. Please, hold me. Make all this go away.”  
“Can I?”  
“Yes. Please.”  
“Tell me if you're changing you mind. Please. Feel free to tell me to back away.”

Severus nodded, and Sirius approached slowly to him. He took him into his arms. He was still so thin and fragile, he felt like he was hugging an egg. They spent some minutes like this, frozen, too afraid to see the moment go away. Severus sighed.

“You said you loved me.”

Ah.   
Yes, he did. 

“Yes, I did.”

Severus remained silent for a while, pondering. 

“I'm scared of telling you the same.”  
“Because I could be a jackass again?”  
“Because I don't feel I can trust anyone.”

That was pretty much the same, wasn't it? But he knew what he meant. He nodded and kissed his head.

“I know. It's ok. It's something I wanted to tell you. You don't have to say it back just to be polite.”  
“All right.”

He didn't cry that night. But one day he would have let everything go. Everything.   
And Sirius would have been there wiping his eyes.

“Sirius?...” Severus whispered one last time, sleepy.   
“Yes?...”  
“If I'd think that this life could be somehow fair to me, just for once, I'd have told you already.”  
“I know. Now sleep.”


	20. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything seems fine, right...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... right?...

I know that you can love me  
When there's no one left to blame  
So never mind the darkness  
We still can find a way  
'Cause nothin' lasts forever  
Even cold November rain  
\- Guns'n'Roses, November Rain

 

November came. Severus was much better. He would be still almost blind. Sometimes he would be fine with it, other times Sirius could tell that he was suffering that condition, but wouldn't admit it. They would sleep together most of the times. Sirius would hold him with all the tenderness he was capable of. They would never go over that sleepy and tight hug at night – Severus couldn't bear the thought of it, Sirius knew that. He was prepared to never kiss again, or ever have sex again – he really was. He was sincere when told Severus he loved him – he thought about it a lot, as Tonks suggested him – and he would've never hurt Severus again.

They would spend a lot of time together, but sometimes Sirius would leave him with Remus or Tonks on purpose, so that Severus could accustom to other people. Sirius was afraid he would cling too much on him alone, and he wanted him to be as indipendent as possible.

They couldn't wait for the kids to come back for Christmas. They would send them letters and sweets. Despite the upcoming war, Sirius would try to stay positive. He wanted to make Severus feel safe. He loved him; he really did.

Yet he could lie to him.

Those letters the kids would send him. He would not read them all out loud. He would leave out a couple of phrases to Severus, telling them only to the other members of the Order. Like the last letter. He read it out loud to him while they were in the kitchen with Remus and Tonks, too. They ate the biscuits together, then Severus would go upstairs with Tonks to stay in bed and playing chess. And Sirius would just sit in the kitchen with Remus, drinking firewhisky and contemplate the last sentence.

 

_CAREFUL – DON'T READ TO SNAPE. Draco is still missing. Dumbledore thinks he refused to get the dark mark and now is being captive in the Riddle Manor, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... NO.


	21. Strength and a glistening stare

_“No, he didn’t cry. He knew that Circe loves the beasts, and beasts don’t cry. He cried later, he cried on the day I told him the long journey that laid ahead of him, the descent to the underworld, and the Ocean’s deep darkness. Shedding tears like those can give one strength and a glistening stare: I myself, Circe, can understand them.”_  
Cesare Pavese – The Witches

 

It was in the middle of November. In a month the kids would be back home with them. Tonks and Remus had begun to spend an awful amount of time together and both Severus and Sirius tried not to make them notice that they noticed.

“I think that they are in love” said Severus once, at night, while being in Sirius' arms, and he chuckled. If a blind guy could notice that, then it was awfully obvious.

They stopped giving Severus the potion for the eyes: Poppy said that the infection was gone and that he wasn't having any problem – it was like he didn't want to see – like something inside him stopping him. Sirius immediately thought to the creepy, deep voice Severus would use when he was sleeping alone or with a pet – not him, nor a human.

The problem was inside him. And Sirius wanted to reach that voice – that scary, terrorizing part of him that was not him. Sirius called him 'the other Severus', the bad part of him, the one that would always keep him down, afraid of the others, unloved. With that voice still around, he wouldn't see the reality of him being safe, loved, and finally happy.

He needed to talk to that voice.

Sirius wasn't really good with minds, so he just procrastinated the moment of confrontation. 'Later' he would say to himself 'when he's getting better'.  
He procrastinated for a while, giving himself that excuse. But Severus was getting better every day, and the excuses were less and less plausible. He had the right to see again, and Sirius had to do everything in his power to make that happen.

Sirius had a plan. He would've sleep with Severus as Padfoot, wait for the voice to show up, and transform. Remus would've stayed awake in case he needed help. He feared another bad reaction from Snape – but he was getting better, he was stronger, and could take it better. He had to.

_Make it work, make it work, please..._

Sirius didn't tell Severus about his plan. They were hugging in bed together, as they did almost every night in the last weeks. He could tell that Severus was accustoming to the situation. The first time he would froze in fear if Sirius dared to move his hand to caress him, or just to stir on the bed – he was still scared, even if he wouldn't admit it. He was afraid of men, human contact even. He admitted he never had someone to hug him. Sometimes his mother. And then only Sirius. Those tight arms around him – those weren't hugs. He knew that, but Sirius was afraid he didn't have enough experience to tell the real difference.

Sirius didn't want more. But to him it was natural to caress him, wanting him to feel good and loved – most of all, he wanted him to feel safe. But he could understand that to him those things weren't good. To him hands were made to tear, beat, hurt, choke, possess, dominate, slap, take – no love, no tenderness. Yet he would allow Sirius to hug him. He was trying – he trusted Sirius, in some ways, so he would let him touch him – but that type of communication, body language, was completely foreign to him. Maybe one day he would've learned it. Or maybe he wouldn't have. To Sirius, that was fine either way. He was happy to see him getting better because of him. He knew that his love could really heal him. All he needed was time and patience. And keep his hands as still as he could. Hug him tight and stop there. Be the nest where he could sleep safely. That was all he wanted. But he had to do something. He wanted to help him get back his sight. He wanted to be the one who helped. The one he could trust and love.

That evening he was hugging him the same way he would every night, soothing words whispered into his ears. That he was loved and safe and cared for, and that he didn't have to worry about a thing in the world, because Sirius was there for him and he would have always been. Severus would quickly fall asleep – he'd been up and around all day, which was pretty exhausting to him. Sirius sighed, praying it would end well. Remus was up and ready to burst inside the room if he'd heard something wrong. Now or never, Sirius thought.

Slowly, so slowly, he released Severus from his loving hug and begun to transform – slowly, slowly – until he was Padfoot, on the bed with him. He waited. Severus was still sleeping. Then – oh no, oh no – he stirred and – yes! - put an arm on him.

First part was gone. Now he had to wait for the voice to show up.

He waited hours. He was afraid to fall asleep, afraid to the voice not to appear, afraid to talk to it – afraid of anything. But after what Severus did for him, all he could do was suck it up and do the least he could – try. Just that. Just try.

Eventually the voice appeared. It was slow and dark and deep, and it made Sirius shiver with fear. He was so creepy, talking to himself. And he would say that he would've never left him, but Sirius would have some day, because no one ever did, and no one ever will.

Sirius began his transformation – slowly, at least he tried, it wasn't easy – until he was human again. Severus backed away from him immediately, his motions harsh and mechanical. But he didn't scream nor convulse, nor cry or anything. He would just froze, sensing him on the bed. Sirius didn't know where to begin, so he would just – the simplest thing he could think of – respond to what he just heard.

“No one did because you don't love yourself, and you wanted to make sure no one else could. You wanted the others to run from you to make you prove your point.”

The voice waited for a second. Two seconds. It was like it was pondering the situation. Then, eventually, responded:

“Yet you wanted me anyway. Why?”  
“I don't know. I just did.”  
“You wanted me because you were horny. Admit it. You wanted to do with me what the others did.”  
“The two experiences – me and the torture – were the same to you?”  
“You would've wanted it eventually. The sex. You still do.”  
“I can't deny it. Because I'm human. But I'm also in love with him and I would never do something to hurt him. Or you. Because you are part of him. I also hate you, because you make him suffer.”  
“It's me – I always suffer.”

They stood, face to face, for a while, breathing, waiting. Then the voice, full of rage, would speak again:

“It's not fair. You can look at me, and I cannot look at you.”  
“My eyes are closed.”

He reached for his face with a hurried movement – luckily, his eyes were already really closed. He touched his face hard, with pointy and cold fingers. Then he left his hands there, making sure his eyes wouldn't open.

“Are we even now?”, Sirius muttered.  
“We will never be. And you know it.”  
“We can be someday.”  
“I was always the bad one. The dangerous one. The ugly one. You were loved and good and beautiful. This will never change.”  
“If you don't let me make amend to you, it will always be this way. Can't you see that remorse and bitterness are eating you? What if everything changed? What if in the future you could be loved, and good, and beautiful?”  
“I will never be. Because I never was.”  
“You are never what you were.”  
“Yes.”  
“Are you the same of – let's say – ten years ago?”  
“No, you're right. I'm far worse now. I'm a fucking ragdoll for fucking. A hole with flesh and blood around it.”  
“No – you're a survivor. And you're a hero. Because you took all that just to protect us. To protect me. And now that you're here I want to spend the rest of my life to repay you. Make amend. And love you. I want to make it all go away.”  
“You cannot.”  
“I'm sure I can.”  
“How?”  
“I want to make you feel loved.”  
“And how exactly do you think you're gonna do that?”

He went a little closer. Severus' body froze, but wouldn't scream yet.

“Just a hug. Let me hug you like I hug him.”  
“You are doing it only for him. You don't care about me.”  
“I'm doing it for you. You are the hurt one. All this years... please. I've heard you almost every night when you thought I couldn't. And every time I wanted to cry. He will be fine. He knows he will. But you...” tears began going out of his shut eyes “I can't believe how much I've hurt you.”

He stood there, his hands still on Sirius' face, touching his tears.

“... please?”  
“I will not change my mind.”  
“I'm not here to change your mind. I want you to understand. That's the only thing I can do.”  
“Very well, then. Love me. Show me.”

Sirius sighed. Then kissed what he had close – the palm of Severus' hands. He felt him froze completely.

“Don't be afraid. I won't do anything. Just hugs. Cuddles. Caresses. That's just – how body speak. I don't want you to hear that I love you – I want you to feel it.”

No response. He kissed his palms again until he could feel the hand relax a little. Then – slowly, so slowly – he would take his hands between his. Hold them a little, just breathing on them, making them warm – gosh, they were freezing, poor Severus. Then he reached for his face.

“I love you” he murmured “I really do.”

He would stroke his hair gently with his free hand, still holding hands with the others, and began approach him – close, so close, a millimeter at the time – telling him that he loved him, he really did, and he was sorry he left him alone – he shouldn't have – and if he didn't want to let Severus go it would have been fine, because he was Severus too, the most hurt and vulnerable part of him, and he wanted to protect him as well. And if he didn't want to touch him again, he would have been fine – but he wanted to, because love cannot be expressed in words, but bodies, and feelings. That really, love had no language. But he was still talking to him, not only with his voice, but with his body. And he could feel that he was sincere. Because he was meaning everything.

He kissed him on the hands again and didn't speak anymore. Then went a little closer. He would let his body talk, let him feel it. He would be close to him, brushing his cheek with his lips – careful, now, and hugged him softly. Kissed him on his forehead and nose, and eyes, and cheeks – and finally he brushed his lips, so softly, just a soft touch, and kiss his forehead again.

In the end he hugged him tight, so tight, because he began shaking uncontrollably, trembling with all his body, as he was sobbing hard, and crying the world out of his own body.

He was crying.  
The most hateful part of him – the most damaged and vulnerable was feeling love and couldn't bear it. Love was killing him, and yet he wanted more, and more, and more.

The last thing the Other Severus would thought that night, strangely, feeling like dying and be reborn again, was always Wilde's Salome. Love and death. Being killed with love, and yet wanting more.


	22. CAREFUL - DON'T READ TO SNAPE

Severus woke up and he could see. 

He didn't jump in joy or called Sirius, who was still hugging him tight. He tried to untangle himself a little, without waking him. He wanted to share that joy with him, but not yet – he was too afraid – he wanted to see if it was real first. He could see. There was the light of the upcoming dawn from the window – he couldn't just see the light but the way it enlightened the roof upon them. 

He could see Sirius. He didn't remember how beautiful he really was. He still had long, curly hair, a strong jaw and a hint of beard – just some white hair. Yet, to him, he was a pagan god he could idolize all day. And he could – that was the best thing – he really could. He didn't know how to tell him that he loved him – he didn't know what it meant. He knew that somehow it would have bound them forever. He just wanted to be sure. 

He couldn't believe he was just there, in Grimmauld Place with the man that he most loved and hated in the bed with him. That he was just there, alive. No more a spy, no more a warrior. Just a survivor. A loved man. An admired man. Someone people would like to see around. 

He got up, slowly, not to wake Sirius. He knew where things were, he just didn't see them yet. He knew where the bathroom was, just... not with his eyes. He reached the bathroom slowly. Opened the door millimeter after millimeter, careful. He didn't have to go. He just wanted to see himself. Once he got in the bathroom, he turned the light on and undressed himself. He just wanted to see himself. How was he doing? He was still very thin – all those replenishment potions were really just to keep him alive. He still had big scars all over his body. He could remember every whip lash that caused them. He could remember that all. He sad on the edge of the bathtub, breathing. He was still alive. All that happened and he was still alive. All he had left was scars but he could live with them. He would not be ashamed by that. For the first time, he thought he was not that bad. Ugly, yes. But undefeated. 

He didn't beg. He didn't break. He really did it. 

He rose, walking to the mirror. He didn't see himself in months. His face was the same – thinner, his ugly features popping up, and a hint of black beard. Sirius would shave his beard once a week because he'd ask him to, but now he could have done it himself. And he still had short hair. They were comfortable, but couldn't wait for them to be long again. He just liked himself more that way. 

He dressed up again and walked out of the bathroom slowly. He was too excited to go to bed again. He began exploring every inch of the room that has been his for months. The big bed, the bedside table with the books Remus had been reading to him on it. A little far from the bed there was the closet, and a bigger table with two chairs close to the window. He approached the window and looked outside. There was barely more light. The street was empty and silent. Everything was good. 

He went to the table. There was the chessboard he used with Tonks. He was accustomed to play at magic chess blind – he'd have to get accustomed to see the game, now. There were also the packages of the kids. All those candies and little presents. 

Those packages, those letters – oh, those kids, those awful little bastards. He loved them so much. They were so nice to him. They loved him too, didn't they? They loved him despite him being awful to them since the first year. They loved him because of his sacrifice – they learnt how to love him. An act of love would bring more love. That was true. That was what was happening between them all. Sirius was doing that too. He saw – he could see! – all those packages made with such care. The goodies. The letters. He took one. First exploded cauldron of the year, Ravenclaw still on top, Hermione's fear of the upcoming exams. He remembered that – Sirius would read them all. They signed it all.

CAREFUL – DON'T READ TO SNAPE

Severus took another one. Sweet message. All signed. Lots of love. 

CAREFUL – DON'T READ TO SNAPE

Another one. All signed. Hugs and kisses. 

CAREFUL – DON'T READ TO SNAPE 

He stood long minutes close to the table, silent and unmoving.  
Sirius' quiet snore was the only noise in Grimmauld Place.


	23. Gone again

When Sirius woke, the sun was up and Severus was not in the bed. He would do that sometimes – walk one step at the time and go to the kitchen, where Remus and Tonks would have greeted him and made him breakfast. They were both early birds.

He stayed in bed for a while, eyes still closed, inhaling Severus' scent still on the sheets. Last night everything had just been so weird and wonderful. He just felt so in love with him – even with that mean voice of his – he really loved him, didn't he? Yet he spent so much time rejecting him, as his feelings were exclusively his fault. But he committed himself to spend the rest of his life making things right.

He just thought – he kissed him, last night. He just brushed his lips against his, but he did. It had been so much time. Maybe one day he would have kissed him again, but he was not sure. He just had to wait and see how things would evolve.

“Please, tell me that you're in the bathroom and you're coming back to bed and that we are going to spend the day in bed” he muttered loud enough so that Severus could hear him from the bathroom. But he didn't so he was already downstairs with Remus and Tonks, talking about books and all the nerdy things they loved so much.

Gosh, he was so tired. He slept so little. Maybe he would have really just stayed in bed until lunch time, but he wanted to see Severus – had he regained his sight? Was he better? Did his plan work? Did he remembered something, anything?

He finally got up. He was just too curious. He went to the bathroom itself. Severus' pajama was on the floor and Sirius' heart jumped. Did he changed all by himself? He rushed to the closet, where he kept part of his stuff. Sirius' jeans and sweater, as well as his boots, were gone. He really dressed up! He ran into the kitchen, where Remus and Tonks already were, chuckling and drinking tea as always. Sirius almost felt awkward.

“There you are!”  
Sirius smiled, pretending he didn't notice how close they were.

“Have you seen Severus?”  
“Not yet. How did it went last night?”  
Strange, Sirius thought, but maybe Severus was in the library, finally having the opportunity to read by himself again.

“I think it went fine. I mean, at least he didn't have another crisis.”  
“Yeah, I haven't heard a thing. At some point I fell asleep.”  
“Yes, we too. We... we spoke. Me and the voice. Then he cried and fell asleep.”  
“We're lucky he stopped having the cramps, or it would've been a disaster.”  
“Yep.”

They all went silent.

“So, you didn't see him” said Sirius after a while.  
“No. Are you sure he is not in the bathroom?”  
“Yes. Only his pajama was there. He dressed up with my things.”  
“Really?”  
“My clothes are missing.”

Without another word, they went looking for him. First in the library, then in the living room, the downstairs bathroom – then just everywhere really. He was not there. He was not there.

They went back into the bedroom. Saw the pajama on the floor – no blood or anything. No signs of distress. Sirius sat at the table, head on his hands. Then he noticed something. The letters were all open on the table. Sirius realized.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

They were all open. Sirius had the proof that Severus got his sight back, because he obviously had read them all, but couldn't find any joy in that thought. His heart sank as he saw the letter on top of the pile.

On the last one, on Harry's Post Scriptum about Draco, there was something freshly written:

_Don't come after me_

“He's gone” he told them, his voice breaking.


	24. The Meeting

They called the meeting immediately, but it couldn't be arranged right away. They had to wait until the evening for the Order to meet. Sirius spent the whole day pacing, while Remus and Tonks would be close to the chimney, talking to people. He couldn't eat nor sleep nor anything. He was out of his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about Snape being alone in the streets. What if he fainted? What if someone recognized him? What if he had another crisis? What if he hallucinated or became delusional? Where was he? What was he doing?

He changed in Padfoot and went to the streets, trying to follow his scent, but it stopped right in the middle of the park in front of Grimmauld Place, vanishing among other smells. It was too late. His trace was vanishing. It was like he disappeared from there, he couldn't follow him anymore. Maybe it was just too late. Or maybe someone took him from there.

“He couldn't Disapparate, he didn't have a wand” said Sirius to Remus and Tonks, when he got back. He would have loved to keep searching, but he promised them to be right back and that he would have not disappeared himself – they wanted to deal one missing person at the time.

He spent the whole day imagining Severus getting caught again in his quest to save Draco – that's what he was doing, Sirius was quite sure of that. Remus would try all day to calm him down:

“He's not an idiot. I'm sure he won't just go there asking them to release Draco. Plus, Draco is just missing. It's not like they kidnapped him. The kids didn't mention something like that in the letters, just that no one knows where he is. Maybe their parents just didn't send him back to school without warning.”  
“Seems unlikely.”  
“I'm just guessing, as you are.”  
“You're right. I'm sorry.”

They would speculate all day, but that was all they could really do. There was no solution awaiting for them. They hoped the meeting would help them figure out the situation.

“How the hell did he get away like that?” asked Moody as soon as they all got there. All they had was the kids' letter where he wrote _don't come after me_. Dumbledore would be there too, looking at that message, his face deadly serious and solemn. Sirius couldn't tell if he was more angry or worried for Severus – was he capable of being worried anyway?

They couldn't answer Moody, though. But Sirius couldn't let Remus or Tonks take his same amount of guilt – or any guilt at all.

“It's all my fault. I was with him. I was supposed to keep an eye on him and make sure he was all right. I was supposed to hide the letters – I couldn't possibly know he would have read them all. I was foolish.”  
“How long as he restored his gaze, by the way?”  
“He was still blind until yesterday.”  
“So, we don't know if his sight is permanently back. He could be just a temporary condition, you know.”

Sirius' heart sank. He hadn't thought of that. Now he had another disaster scenario added to his collection: Severus walking alone into the streets, blind.

“I – I tried to follow his scent as Padfoot, but it was already so feeble. He had be gone for hours already when we found out. At some point I lost track.”  
“So he could be anywhere. If he's alive at all.”  
“Don't say that. Please.”

Moody sighed. Everyone else was silent – they couldn't speculate. Then Shaklebolt asked:

“What did he took?”  
“Well, he took my clothes. My jeans, a sweater, my boots. The replenishment potion bottles are missing – there were four left. And a pack of candies.”  
“Candies?”  
“Honeydukes. The kids sent him some gifts with the letters. Including sweets. There were so many some were leftovers. I – I don't know why he took those. I think he was just being delusional. He could be anywhere – they probably just took him again and –”  
“Sirius, do you even _know_ Severus?”

They all turned to Albus. Still pale and serious, but enraged as well.

“He doesn't know the situation, and he's aware of it so he won't just go around calling for Draco. He has no wand nor strength, so I highly doubt he would start any fight. He managed to stay focused for a very long time in a far worse situation and in far worse condition. I don't know why he left, but I'm sure he has something on his mind.”  
“Well, you can't be sure of it, can you?”  
“I surely know him better than you.”  
“Yet you left him to rot there.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“Sirius, I'm sorry that you know me so little you thought I would have fallen for that bait as soon as I got the first message. I couldn't let anyone to die in the Riddle manor – I just couldn't. That's the difference between you and me.”  
“The difference between me and you, Albus, is that I would've never left him there.”  
“We also have another difference, Sirius: I don't underestimate him. Maybe he took the candies as a quick fix in case of a blood pressure decrease. He knows he can't take potions all the time. He obviously has a plan. And if he thinks he can't do it he will ask for help or come back here. He wouldn't risk his own life knowing that, if he dies, Draco would be lost forever.”

Of course. Blood pressure. He remembered that time Severus felt dizzy and asked for some water and sugar. Sirius hadn't thought of that, but wouldn't admit it in front of Albus. He was trying to make a point.

“I don't think you should be speaking of him anyway. This was you fault too, you know. If he could have a blood pressure decrease and faint in the middle of the street – well, I didn't cause that.”  
“I may have been wrong, I may have taken some poor decisions, but that's something I'll discuss with him, not you. The problem is...”  
“What?”

Dumbledore hesitated, then sighed.

“Well, if he's gone trying to figure out the situation, he'll find out that Lucius and Narcissa have been killed by Tom after we freed him. At this point we can tell that it was out of revenge – killing his friends out, and make his godson a bait. But he's too smart to fall for that, I guarantee you.”  
“Narcissa and Lucius... gone?”

Sirius, Remus and Tonks stood silent for a moment, not knowing how to take that information. That was new. The others didn't seem that surprised.

“Did you all knew?”  
“Yes”, said Moody.  
“Why didn't you tell us?”  
“We were afraid it would have slipped in front of him.”  
“That was my direct order. He was too weak. The news would have crushed him.”  
“Like you ever cared” muttered Sirius, staring at him.  
“I care, yes” said Albus, not looking away “I care enough to be worried for him and wanting him to come back. I made a mistake. I could have saved him earlier. Again, I'll have to talk to him about that, not you. And we'll do that at the proper time, which is not now. Because he's missing. And I was not the one supposed to make sure he wouldn't leave Grimmauld Place.”

At that point, Sirius didn't know what to say anymore, and fell silent.


	25. First snow

December came, but not Severus.

They just had to wait. They wouldn't do any different. Sirius wanted to do something, but Albus – him, of all people – talked him out of it. If Severus, as he suspected, was trying to get to Draco and they would have made a move against Death Eaters without him knowing, they could accidentally ruin his plans. They would have ruined whatever his plan were while trying to help him. That was surprisingly considerate, coming from Albus. Sirius didn't trust him at all, but this time Alastor was on his side. They didn't know Severus' plans, but if they involved Death Eaters, and they would have been under attack, Severus wouldn't have known how to move. They have to keep it down for a while. Sirius trusted him more than Albus, anyway. 

“He'll be back. I'm sure”, said Dumbledore before leaving. Sirius didn't want to trust him, but he had to – didn't he? He just had to wait.

He would wait close to the window of Severus' bedroom. He would sleep on his bed. He didn't change the bedsheets yet. Tonks and Remus tried to, but he stopped them. He couldn't let them do that. It was their bed – something terrible could have happened if they changed the bedsheets. 

“You're delusional”, said Remus, but he didn't insist anymore. 

Sirius stopped eating and washing. He would just drink looking outside the window, cry and go to sleep. He burned down all the letters – damn all those letters – and cried out loud, like a baby, until Remus found him and hugged him despite his horrible state. 

“You have to get back on you feet”, he kept saying, but Sirius just wouldn't listen. They tried to make him food, but he would refuse it. He found out that Tonks was putting some replenishment potion in his firewhisky, and he would cry thinking of how little they had when Severus left. What if he was needing some in that moment? How could he drink that or eat, or sleep, while Severus could have been out there starving or sick? He smashed that bottle on the wall and cried on it, while Tonks kept hugging him and telling him that she was sorry. But it was his fault – he was the one responsible for his own pain. Albus was right.

A letter from the kids came, but not Severus. 

Sirius didn't wrote back to them. He couldn't tell them that Severus was not there with him, reading the letter and eating their biscuits. Plus, in two weeks they would have been there for the Christmas holidays. All of them. And he didn't know how they would have reacted. They really grew a whole new admiration for Snape, and he was gone now, and they didn't know that yet. 

Draco was still missing, too – poor lad. Now he was an orphan. Did he know that his parents were dead? He had to know that. And he was all alone, grieving them. Well, he probably had Bellatrix, but was that a good thing? She was on Voldemort's side, and he killed his parents. He wondered if Draco knew that it was Voldemort to kill his parents. Did Draco know that Severus was still alive? Did he know that he was after him? Sirius hoped that he could know that, somehow, he was still loved. That he was not all alone in the world. Somehow, he hoped that Severus knew that, too.

He could understand Severus. He was desperate because he was gone, but he understood why he left.

Draco was Severus' godson like Harry was his – what would have he done if Harry was missing? He would've started a war. But he would've probably lost that war. Severus was careful. Smart. He wouldn't let them find him again. Sirius just hoped he was all right. That he was safe and remembered to eat. He had just a sweater – did he find a coat somewhere? Was he eating right? Was he resting? He felt so bad. Severus could be ill in that very moment and he was there in his warm house, doing nothing but wait. And he was there all alone in the world. If he wasn't already dead. 

Yes, they were waiting, but what if Severus was just dead. What if he went blind again and decided to end it? Or what if they found him and he killed himself before he would be imprisoned again? What if he was just killed? Was Sirius his last thought? 

He took another sip of firewhisky while crying softly, looking outside the window.

The first snow came, but not Severus.


	26. The man at the door

Two weeks went by in a moment. Severus and Draco were still missing. The Order was doing the best trying to look for him, but couldn't do much more. Albus didn't receive a thing. Sirius just wanted to make him drink a whole bottle of Veritaserum and make him spit everything he knew, but couldn't.

They didn't have Veritaserum in Grimmauld Place.

They were all there for Christmas. When the kids came and learned the truth, it was like dropping a bomb. They cried for hours. Harry tried to get mad at him for not telling them right away, but he saw Sirius' conditions and didn't say a word. Sirius was just going crazy because of that situation – he was getting really thin and was drunk all the time. He would be crying in that unmade bed all the time, look outside the window, cry again and drink again. He just couldn't stand staying sober. Reality was too painful for him.

He was gone.  
Two weeks were too much time.  
He was just gone.

He was dead.  
There was nothing he could do.

He found the kids at night in the same room, sleeping all together with red faces and eyes, like they all cried to sleep. That had to be their worst Christmas ever – maybe even for Harry. Poor guy couldn't catch a break. First Albus, now he couldn't even trust Sirius – he was just too wasted to be trusted in those days. He knew he should've listened to Remus and try to keep it together, but he couldn't. He just wanted to be able to protect the man he loved, and failed. He wanted to protect his godson, and wasn't able to do it. He was just worthless, a waste of space. He just wanted to die and feel nothing more. Then he would hate himself for those thoughts – Severus was just way better than he always was and could possibly be. He survived hell just to protect him, and he couldn't do anything right.

They had a meeting next evening. The kids wouldn't be allowed, of course, but Sirius had the feeling that that time they wouldn't have even try to spy on them. They had spent the whole day just crying. They also understood that – it was too late. No signs, no nothing. He didn't save Draco. He didn't do anything. He just died. He had to be. There was nothing they could do. And they told him – Sirius didn't, someone told them – that he went away after reading their letters. They felt just so guilty and miserable Sirius couldn't bear to look at them. Hermione spent the whole day saying that she should've used a Confundus charm or use and invisible ink – something, anything. They had been all so naive. They just wanted to be good to him. That was so cruel – they just were being nice to him, and that's what ultimately killed him.

They spent the day of the meeting crying together in their room as well. Crookshanks would be on Severus' bed, meowing. Sirius couldn't send him away, so he ended up crying on the bed with the cat, drinking until passing out.

Eventually Remus called him out for the meeting with a cup of black coffe in his hand.

“There's something to make you feel better inside it. Drink it. Then I'll help you wash and change clothes.”  
“No.”  
“That's not optional.”

Sirius sighed, but he was too weak to fight him. Remus was just trying to help him. Why was he so stubborn? Why would he refuse all the help? Why did he want to destroy himself so badly?

_Because you fucking ruined everything, that's why._

The meeting started off slowly. No news, no nothing. They agreed that Severus was probably never going to come back. Albus was the only one saying that he had to be still around. Sirius couldn't help but notice they were all dressed in black, except for Albus.

They were all grieving. Except Albus. For the first time, Sirius thought he was not being mean as he believed. He was there, not seeing the truth while everyone else could. He just had to be delusional, and Sirius couldn't blame him. It was all his fault. The way he treated him – the way he always treated him – and now he was gone. Because of him. Every person has a way to grieve. For Sirius, it was being wasted and cry. For Albus, it had to be being in denial. He could forgive him for that, but not for the other things. He left Severus – he couldn't forgive that. He could not. But he couldn't say that in the meeting, no, he could not. All he could do was just stand there and pretend he didn't want to tear the place apart. Why would he, by the way? Why make them pay for something he had done? Or Albus had done? They had no fault. He was just so sorry things went that way. The war was lost. Everything was lost.

He didn't realize he was not paying attention anymore until he realized that everyone went silent. And staring at him – no – something behind him. No – something they heard. Behind him. There was a wall. Was the wall?... – no. Behind the wall. Hallway. Door. The front door.

A noise. A thump.

Someone was at the door.

They all took their wands. Including Sirius. His hand was trembling. Him and Remus looked at each other and they knew. They just knew. They went to the door, gesturing the other to wait in the room. Once in the hallway, Sirius was glad the kids weren't spying on them – they didn't know – did they heard?... – Tonks was already there on the first steps, wand in hand, waving them to go on. She would've protected them.

Another thump. Stronger. Someone was hitting the door. But they were all there. Could it be?... but something was too off, too strange, and Sirius too scared. He was afraid. So afraid. What if – what if they got betrayed? They couldn't find Grimmauld place anyway – he had to stay calm, they couldn't attack them there. The hallway seemed infinite. Sirius couldn't believe how long it was. But they eventually got to the door. They looked at each other, wand in hands. Sirius was awake and aware as he wasn't in weeks.

They opened the door and pointed their wands, ready to fight.

In front of them there was a short middle-aged man with caramel skin and thin air, dressed in a simple black suit and a modest cloak. He had a suitcase made of consumed black leather under his arm.

Sirius didn't know him.

They stared at him for a couple of seconds. Sirius didn't know what to do: no one could even _see_ Grimmauld Place without permission from the Secret Keeper. Who the -  
but the man spoke first:

“Can I come in, or you want me to be busted again?”

Sirius' heart skipped a beat.

That was Snape.

He couldn't ask – how did he...? – he stepped back to let him in, but kept the wand in his hand, as Remus did. He couldn't believe it. He was away for weeks and they all thought he was dead. That he killed himself or got killed while trying to rescue Draco. Sirius was still mourning and there he was, like nothing even happened.

Was he really him?... he had to.

He HAD to.


	27. Albus' fault

Sirius and Remus followed that man through the hallway to the living room, where the others looked at him spooked. Then, when he said “Good evening” in Severus' voice, they were spooked even more. The man didn't notice, or pretended not to, and shoved the suitcase on the table.

“Well, I'd say we can begin without waiting for the Polyjuice Potion to fade off, or you'd rather see my face first?”  
“Face first” said Alastor Moody almost immediately, his wand pointed at him. The man with Snape's voice smiled:

“Ah, Alastor, without you the Order would be already ashes to the ground” he then proceeded to took away his cloak, then sat to an empty chair, and stirred. They waited. And waited. Sirius would look at him from the doorstep, speechless, as they all did. Albus was the only one who didn't look surprised. He looked almost amused.

Him and the man exchanged a deep stare. Then they both smiled.

“I knew you were alive.”  
“I wish you didn't knew me so well, then. It was supposed to be a surprise.”  
“It was. You'll never cease to amaze me, my boy.”  
“Don't call me that” said the man, suddenly serious. He paused, then said: “we'll have to talk someday.”  
“We will”, said Albus.

They waited. Molly did the only thing she knew would ease the tension, and made up some tea. By the time it was ready and on the table, the man would be already taller, thinner, his skin had changed to a ghostly white tone and his hair were thicker and shorter. And his nose bigger – it was him, they had no doubt. Yet they took the tea in silence waiting for the potion to fade off completely. It took some other minutes for the man to be Severus again. It was him – thinner and paler than the last time Sirius saw him. He had a sick look on his face. He was obviously tired, but didn't seem to care.

“So, are we clear now?”  
“You are _alive_ ”

Sirius couldn't take it anymore. Severus just looked at him. In his eyes there was nothing of the sweet, needy, hurt Severus he knew, despite his bad conditions. He seemed calm, almost uncaring, but Sirius could sense a deep rage under his skin.

“What did you think?”  
“But how... how did you...”  
“What?”  
“The Polyjuice – it takes weeks to –”

Severus rolled his eyes.

“I'm a spy. I've been for years, in case you forgot. I have several spots around the country – in case something happened – with Polyjuice Potion, hair from other people, unregistered wands I've been capable to collect in these years, clothes, money – even muggle money. And other little things I thought could become handy, like Veritaserum. Everything I could need for survival. And all of them are placed in spots I can have access to with a trick, not a wand, in case someone took it from me. Hair of muggles, so that people in our world couldn't recognize me. I choose all people of a similar size, so the clothes – which I choose to be as insignificant as possible – would always fit. And if one face would become too recognizable, well – I'd become another one in no time. If the night I was... taken... I could have had the chance to escape, they wouldn't have find me ever again. I can disappear from the Earth if I want to.”

“What do you mean _If one face would become too recognizabl_ e?” asked Alastor. Sirius couldn't help but notice a slight admiration in his voice. He couldn't blame him – that was amazing.  
“What did you think – that I would have waited for you to do something about Draco? Because yes, I found out he's missing, and I wanted to do something about it.”

He wouldn't look at Sirius. It was like he wasn't there. He was talking to Alastor. Sirius would just look at him, appalled and drunk. And hurt. He was angry at him. Wouldn't look at him. They didn't have a chance to talk yet. Maybe they would've never talked again.

“We figured. So you...”  
“... I went collecting information. But if I approached some people with a face, it just couldn't be seen again for a while. I had to be careful. I used Veritaserum and confundus spells to make them talk without remember it. I would sleep in muggle places, just to make sure I could recover without being seen with the potion off. The Polyjuice is still too strong for me – in fact, I'm feeling sick as hell right now.”  
“Do you want to lie down, and continue later?” asked Remus, but Severus shook his head.  
“No. They are not doing to Draco what they did to me, but the sooner you all know everything the sooner we can think of something to take him away – we will, won't we?”

Albus nodded.

“We'll do everything we can. Please, go on.”

Severus looked at him a long moment, trying to figure if he could trust him or not. But he didn't have any choice, did he? He finally decided to talk.

“Draco is in Malfoy Manor – trapped. He can't go out his own room. There are Death Eaters all around the place. Five of them are outside at all times, taking turns. They know that you took me away and they know I'm still alive, because of a protecting spell I had cast on my supplies at Riddle Manor – the same trick you used, Albus. They know that we'll just try and do something. They also know Draco is just too valuable to touch him, for now. There are three protective spells outside the manor and there's a password at the door – Draco Dormiens. Ironic, I know. Lucius and Narcissa...” he stopped for a moment. Sirius couldn't decide if he was getting sick or if he just hesitated thinking of them “... are dead . Bellatrix has gone insane – well, more than usual. She loves Draco and wouldn't let him being touched by anyone, but she wants him to take the Mark and follow his orders – and he wouldn't do that. His parents were killed in front of him. They said... they told me that they killed him because they wanted to protect me. They were planning to get me out of Riddle Manor themselves, since you weren't coming”, and he paused.

He looked at Albus. That time – THAT TIME, really, Sirius could tell he was devastated. He had two people killed because of his actions. No one said anything for a while. Everybody was tearing up. They died because of Dumbledore. Because of them. Because he wouldn't risk their lives, they were dead and Draco was an orphan.

“They wanted to get me out and get Draco out. They didn't want him to be part of the Death Eaters anymore. They saw what they were doing to me. They didn't want Draco to be part of that. Draco could never take the mark now. They won't force him, for now, but... I don't know how long can this situation go on...”

He put his hand on the table and shook his head slowly.

“I'm sorry. I'm not feeling –”

He fainted and almost fell off the chair. Luckily, Arthur would catch him just in time not to fall on the ground.


	28. Awake

He woke up in the darkness of his room.

He took a couple of minutes to realize where he was. It was not some sleazy muggle motel. No old television in a sad angle, no bad paintings on the wall, no dusty rugs on the floor, no dark spots on the roof. It was his bed – the last bed that was his. He turned. Sirius was there. Of course he would be. When he saw him on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, he wanted to hug him and punch him at the same time. He did none of those things because he couldn't decide. Plus, Sirius looked like he'd recently been struck by a train. Now he couldn't help but notice he seemed better – and he was still beautiful. So beautiful. What a prick. Yet he loved him, didn't he? Yes, he did. He wanted to hug him and tell him that he was sorry, that he had to do it alone, and had to move fast, and that he'd miss him any second of every day. He wanted to ask him if he had thought of him while the snow was falling, because he did. But he also wanted to scream at his face and tell him that he was a lying bastard and that he didn't want to see him again – but then he would become the lying bastard, because he would have never stopped wanting to see him. He would have never stopped wanting him.

Why everything had to be so complicated?

He tried to sit, but felt too dizzy and fell on the bed again. Damn, that Polyjuice potion really fucked him up. He felt so bad. He should've come back earlier, but he couldn't – he had to find out as much as he could. He knew he was risking everything – even his own life – but he had to do it. Especially after he found out about Lucius and Narcissa.

Poor bastards. He loved them so much. Lucius participated in his rape – he had to – but Severus knew that he didn't want to. He knew which ones were doing that with real pleasure and which were forced to. He could tell who was enjoying it and who was doing that because it was an order. He could tell which were using a Lustful Potion – he learned how to distinguish them pretty fast. And despite Lucius tried his best to fake his enjoyment, Severus could tell that he was not. It was all right. They would've talked some day. He wished they could have. He wanted to tell him that it was all right. That he didn't hate him. That he was still his best friend. That he would always be. His eyes filled with tears – he could have never talk to him ever again. He was gone, and Narcissa too. They could have never forgive each other again. There was something so cruel about it. The words that they could never tell each other again. For the first time in his life, Severus hoped there was an afterlife where he could see them again and tell them that everything was fine and forgiven. That they would always be their friends.

But now he was alive – he was, and they were not. And they loved only one thing in their life – their son. Save him and take care of him was the only thing Severus could do to tell them that he loved them and that he would always do.

They weren't doing that just for Severus. He knew that. They were friends, but they would've never risked their own life or Draco's life for him. There was something else. Something too terrible to talk about.

He didn't tell EVERYTHING to the Order. There were things that just weren't right to know.

Plus, he was fairly sure that that particular memory had not been sent to Albus. So it was something only him and Draco would know. Among the living, at least. And some Death Eaters would know that as well, but he wasn't worried about them. He couldn't kill people in his little quest – too risky. But it was only a matter of time. One day no one would have remembered that. Only him. That was something he could live with – if he could be alone with that shameful, horrible secret, he could bear it.

He tried to sit up again – his stomach would hurt like hell. He came back just in time. He felt horribly. But he had to do – what day was that? What were they doing? Did they already have a plan? Were they doing something, anything? He couldn't do that alone. He couldn't save Draco alone. Albus said that they would have done anything they could – but he could also decide that they couldn't do nothing and just leave Draco there, all alone, in the hands of the other Death Eater and Bellatrix too, who was just completely nuts at that point.

He felt a hand on his back, helping him to stand up – Sirius. Severus accepted his help, but couldn't bring himself to look at him – not while he was awake. He couldn't bring himself to speak to him, not in that moment. He was not ready. He sighed. He was an adult thinking like a teenager boy at his first love. Which he was, in a way.

“Are you all right?” asked Sirius.

Severus knew that he wanted to tell him much more than that, but wouldn't bother him with his silly love declaration – just like he was doing. There were things that just couldn't be told like that. But the way he was touching him was speaking more than a thousand words. Severus knew that taking care of him was Sirius' way to tell him that he loved him. If he'd answer that he didn't need any help, it would have been a way to tell Sirius that he didn't want him anymore, and that he just had to go away. He could have done that. But for what? A whacky revenge? And for what – not telling him about Draco? He was really mad, but tried to understand Sirius – Severus had been sick and blind and close to death. How much would have helped him to know that his grandson was missing in that situation?

He had to make him understood that they still had a chance. But telling him right away would have been too much. So he just said:

“I'm feeling sick.”

Sirius sighed in relief and reached for a vial on the bedside table. They both knew what those words meant. That was a way to say _I'm allowing myself to be weak in front of you. I'm allowing you to take care of me. I'm allowing you to show me your love. This is not over yet._

Sirius handed him the vial. It was just some simple fix for his stomach – he could tell by the smell. He felt instantly better. He handed the empty vial to Sirius again.

“Do you want to sleep a little more?”

Severus shook his head.

“No. I couldn't sleep in this situation anyway.”

Sirius looked at him.  
Oh, Severus knew that stare now.  
He was hiding something.

“What?” he whispered angrily. Sirius hesitated, but he was expecting rage already. He wouldn't want to anger him more than he already was.  
“You've been away for a week. The Polyjuice potion really tore you apart. You almost died. Again.”  
“A week?! But –”  
“Shh!” Sirius just shushed him, placing a hand on his mouth. He didn't want to wake the whole house, didn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This chapter is dedicated to the dearest Trickster32 whose intuition got herself a big spoiler :3 love you!]


	29. Snape's Memory pt.4

It happened in his cell. Three weeks had passed. He was slowly dying. He wouldn't hope anymore. He could feel his body slowly shutting down and they were just starting not to care anymore about him dying or not. But the feeling of his slowly dying body around their dicks would still drive them mad – the ones who used the Lustful potion wouldn't come anymore. Their presence was not requested. Now came only those who enjoyed crushing his body to the ground. They wanted to kill him one hit at the time. They still wanted to break him, but he wouldn't surrender. He couldn't. He already couldn't see anymore. That, maybe, was a good thing.

 

(Months later, in a muggle hotel, while waiting for the dawn to come so he could go looking for Rodulphus in Nocturne Alley, he peeked at himself in the big mirror inside the closet of his room. He was still in awe with how ugly muggle furniture could be, but that big mirror was useful. He could actually see himself completely naked for the first time from head to toe – not just some pieces in a little mirror in Grimmauld Place – he could actually see himself – so, shutters closed and everything, he would explore his battered and still healing body. All those scars were deep cuts once, bleeding and covered in piss and cum. And he thought that his blindness had been a bliss. If he'd actually watched his body being corrupted and rotten, he'd probably break at some point. Out of sight, out of mind. Pain would bring him to reality but he was accustomed to it. And he had gone too far to care for humiliation anymore. But what happened in that cell was even beyond humiliation – and what was worse, that particular episode didn't involve just him.)

 

He was still sorry for himself. He was the only one who would cry for his own death – and yet he wouldn't cry. He was crushed and broken in every way but mentally. He would be still there, suffering, hoping for something to change, yet slowly surrendering to the idea that no one would have ever come for him. That Albus had just abandoned him to his destiny. He heard steps and words outside, shouting – they were coming back. Maybe that was the time of his death. He kept hoping for that.

 

(Months later, back in Grimmauld Place, Sirius would leave him on the bed and tell him to wait. He would make him lean on two pillows so he would sit a little without making him tired – Severus didn't just want to lay in bed. He didn't want to be sick anymore. He was tired of being sick. And Draco was there, all alone, in danger, while he spent all that precious time being in a stupid coma or whatever. But Sirius would understand and tell him that he would have healed soon, but he couldn't get out of bed. That he got intoxicated by the Polyjuice potion and they nearly lost him, but that he would have been all right. He would leave him in the room telling him to wait and be patient. And he would obey – loved, cared for, so far from those weeks of misery.)

 

They had brought a young one – he didn't want to – he heard him cry. He heard him beg not to make him do that. He heard the young boy beg to let him out of there. That was Draco – Severus couldn't believe – he heard him say that those were the orders, he had to do it.

He heard them force him a potion down his throat.  
He heard them laugh and perform an Engorgio spell on him.  
He heard him cry and beg to leave him alone. To let him go out.

He said that his father couldn't possibly allow that. He heard them laugh and say that his father's opinion was irrelevant. That was a direct order from the Dark Lord and he had to obey. To fuck him and obey.

Boys will be boys, one said. He had to learn. They wanted him to submit and obey. They wanted him to become a Death Eater, like them. And he had to learn what it meant.

They force him inside Severus. He tries to pretend he's unconscious – he tries not to cry – he bit his lip not to cry – he doesn't want him to remember his screams.

He would like to say that everything is fine.  
That he understand.  
That he knows.  
That he must be safe.  
That he must pretend to enjoy it, like his father did.  
That he must survive.

But he can't.

Draco just fucks him and cry and beg for them to leave him. He comes and cries. He asks Severus to forgive him. They laugh. They take him out laughing. He can hear him cry in the hallway. He won't cry. He won't surrender. He'll rather die there than surrender.

 

(Sirius is back. He peeks in to see if he's asleep – he's not. He tells him that he has a surprise – but to stay calm and not wake the others. It's just so early in the morning.  
Severus sighs and says that he hates surprises.  
Sirius enters the room and there's someone with him.

Severus gasps.

It's Draco. His Draco – so thin and pale, looking ill, dark circles under his eyes – eyes so red, like he'd been crying all the time – wearing something that he recognizes as one of Lucius' silk pajamas, too big for him, and yet he wears it.

They stare at each other. They both begin to cry.

“Forgive me” whispers Draco “oh, please, forgive me”

Severus tries to stand up but he can't – he tries to reach for Draco, raises his arms, and Draco hesitates just for one second before rushing to him. They hug each other and cry, and Severus shushes him softly, telling him that he's alright, that they will both be all right, that everything is fine, that it's Draco who should forgive him, that he loves him and that he will never be alone anymore. Severus will always be there and protect him. They hug and cry and that's the first time Severus feels he can let go a little – everything is fine now, everything will be.

He lets Draco sleep with him on a side of the bed. He lets Draco sleep in his arms. He allows Sirius to sleep on the other side.

Severus waits for Draco to fall asleep in his arms. He kisses him on the forehead. He allows Sirius to put an arm around his own waist. They sleep together like this – three survivors at the end of the world.)


	30. Obliviate

Severus was away in his deep sleep through Christmas and the first day of the year, too. When the morning came, and he would be up – helped by Sirius and Draco – everybody would be just so happy it felt like a second Christmas. He couldn't actually get out of the bed, but they arranged some pillows so he could sit more comfortable, then called the others to let them know that he was awake. For the first time in his life, he had some gifts to unwrap. He usually had only one book from Albus and something nice from Minerva, but that year he had everything from everyone – even one of Molly's handmade sweaters and some brain teasers from the kids, plus other biscuits and candies – he guessed that they would have always got him some, too. 

Sirius didn't have a gift – but he actually already gave him something: his Draco. Severus didn't know if he participated in his rescue or not, but he would've never forget the moment he brought him into his room. He was still angry at him, and would avoid talk to him alone. There were too much things to say. Yet he allowed him to sleep in his – their – bed again, and hug him. He didn't want to finish their story, but he needed to get some things straight among them. If their story had to go somewhere, it needed some things to be cleared.

It was strange to see Draco in the house – silent, slightly happy now that Severus was awake again. Yet he seemed still in distress and awkward around the others. He was sure the kids were doing their best to make him feel welcomed, despite their past of pranks and insults. Severus wanted to know how did they take him, what happened, but they had plenty of time to explain. And he felt just too weak to hear all those stories. 

He knew that the war wasn't over and that they had to be focused. He didn't want to get distracted. But they were all so happy around him, he couldn't help but being dragged in their happiness. Just for a while. He laughed and thanked them for the presents. He slept a little while Sirius would watch him. When he woke up again in the evening he was happy to know that Draco spent the day with the others. He didn't want him to isolate and being sorry for himself – Severus would be that for both. He was just a kid, and already saw horrible things, and went from being a rich loved child to an homeless orphan. Severus would be there for him, but that was not the same thing – he just knew that nothing would repair what was in Draco's mind. Except maybe about that memory – that, he could do something about it. He still had one of his unregistered wands. 

He made Sirius call him. He wanted to talk to him alone. He wanted to obliviate that memory and make him feel better – that was the only thing he could do. 

Draco was really nervous when he entered the room. They were alone, and he sat on the chair by the bed. Severus had already the wand in his hands.

“What is that?”  
“Trust me, Draco...”

But the boy raised his hand, blocking Severus' arm when he tried to raise it. 

“Don't. I want to remember.”  
“What?”  
“I want to remember” he repeated, tears forming in his gray eyes “maybe one day, when this is all over – I'll ask you then. But not now. I don't want to forget what they did to you. What they did to me. They'll have to pay and I want to remember everything.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Draco was sobbing and tearing up, but wouldn't avoid his stare. He was sure of what he was saying. He really was. Severus nodded and lowered his wand. 

“If that's what you wish...”  
“It's not. But it's necessary.”

He began to cry softly. Severus took him in his arms. He could've obliviate him now or later in his sleep, but he didn't want to – he didn't want to betray Draco's trust, not even for his own good. 

It was so hard to love someone so hurt. So hard to know that nothing could bring a smile on their faces. 

In some ways, he began to understand Sirius, but couldn't forgive him right away. He lied to him. Yet, that night Draco would sleep in his room with Harry and Ronald, and him and Sirius would still sleep together. Before sleeping, he allowed Sirius to give him a quick kiss on the lips.


	31. A little talk

Severus and Sirius spent a couple of days still being together, not fighting nor talking, except for small talk about what to eat or Severus' health condition. School was about to begin soon and the kids – except Draco – would have come back there. Severus would spend lots of time with him or the others, ignoring Sirius most of the day. Sirius knew that he had to do something. He didn't want for that attitude to become an habit – it would've separate them in the end. 

“We need to talk” he told him then one evening, after the kids and the others went to bed. Severus would be at the table, reading by himself, and would lift his head from the book. 

“About what?”  
“About what happened.”  
“And what happened?”

Sirius sighed. That was the 'old' Severus right there. 

“You left...”  
“No.”  
“You could have been killed by –”  
“No.”  
“I'm not kidding here, Severus.”  
“Me neither. Try again.”  
“...”  
“...”  
“I lied to you.”  
“Yes.”

Severus closed the book, but didn't look at Sirius. Instead he rose, and went by the window. He was still really weak, but Sirius could tell he would've rather fall than ask for help in that moment. 

“You lied to me. You made me think that everything was fine when it wasn't – not one bit.”  
“What should have I done? You were sick, and blind, and –”  
“Please, stop there. It's not because you didn't want to protect me – well, not only that. You were overprotecting me and you don't realize it. You wanted to protect me from everything, so much that Draco risked his own life because we weren't doing nothing.”  
“See? That's why I didn't tell you. You would've rushed to save him, which you did, and you almost got killed in the way.”  
“I didn't. I only took information. And if you'd told me before, I wouldn't have run away. I would have told the Order how to get the information on my behalf. I had to made that because I knew that there wasn't much time left.”

He took a moment of silence, still watching out of the window.

“I'm not your damsel in distress. Is that clear?”  
“Yes.”  
“If you love me, you love me even like this – a grown ass independent man – or nothing. If you want to love me just because I need you, I'll be gone by --”  
“Please, don't. I just wanted to protect you. All right, I was enjoying being your savior, your Prince Charming with the shining armor and all – I guess it eased my guilt, somehow.”  
“Stop being guilty for stuff that happened almost twenty years ago. You're old.”  
“Fair enough. You're right – please, please forgive me. I didn't tell you because you were really sick, I didn't want to worsen the situation. I know you don't like hearing it – but you were sick and knowing that Draco disappeared would have been just worse for you healing process. I was stupid. I had to tell you sooner. Please. I didn't know how to – I'm sorry.”

Severus was still looking out of the window, not watching Sirius.

“I have another question. I'll believe whatever you tell me. But I want you to tell me the truth.”  
“All right.”  
“It's something I've been considered these days. It's just a suspect.”  
“Ask me.”  
“Did you watch my memories?”  
“Yes.”

Severus closed his eyes. Sirius didn't dare to approach him and stood there, waiting for him to say something.

“All of them?”  
“No, only one. The one with... the first time.”  
“Why did you look at it?”  
“I wasn't sure it was real. I was afraid it was a trap. I thought Dumbledore was too involved in the situation to tell if it was real or not.”  
“And why you, of all people?”  
“I wanted to prove that you were bad and mischievous and not trustworthy. To myself first, I guess.”  
“Did anyone else looked at them?”  
“Moody. He didn't trust me with them.”  
“Someone else?”  
“Not that I know. I highly doubt that.”

To his surprise Severus turned, walked to him, and hugged him. Sirius hugged him back, smelling his neck. He closed his eyes.

“Don't lie to me again. Not even to protect me.”  
“I won't. I swear.”

Severus hugged him tighter, and Sirius did the same. 

“I love you”, said Severus.


	32. A laugh

They hugged and kissed. Severus couldn't bear more than that, and Sirius was happy just for being able to hold him. All those days spent mourning for Severus, crying and starving and drinking, sure that he was gone – just look at him again was amazing. Kiss him was something already beyond his expectations. He tried to be sweet – Severus would be hesitant, and Sirius didn't want to pressure him. They kissed slowly, just like that day in Hogwarts where they were laying on the snow and nobody else was around. He didn't know which day was it, but it was during the Christmas Holidays. He wondered if that was the same day. 

He tried his best to put everything in that kiss to make Severus feel safe. He knew he wouldn't try to do anything else and Sirius didn't want him to feel like he had to – but he wanted him to feel like he could explore that new sensation. That kiss. He was sure no one else kissed him before his imprisonment. He wondered if some of them tried to kiss him during his torture – a mean kiss, a bite, something to make him break, submit – he didn't want to know, and didn't want to ask. If Severus would have wanted to tell him, he knew he could. But Sirius wanted to give him just all the love he needed and never got for all those years. He kept him close in his arms, kissing him tenderly by the window. 

They hadn't close the door, so didn't notice Draco on the doorstep, watching them in awe. He didn't want to interrupt them, but couldn't watch away. He wouldn't say he was shocked – surprised, mostly. His godfather being with a man was something, but Sirius Black? He was Draco's cousin, in a way. Plus, he thought that they hated each other. Draco would have watched them all night if he wouldn't have heard a crack, a small squeak – they didn't heard it, luckily – but made him turn right away. Damn Potter and his friends were on the stairs. He shushed them immediately, a finger on his mouth. They were going slowly trying not to wake Severus, probably – well, he wasn't sleeping yet, but they had no right to make any noise anyway. 

Him and those guys had nothing in common, except their love for Snape – something none of them would have believed possible – and they barely could stand each other. Well, Draco had most of the problems. He was willing to admit that he hadn't been easy, but he didn't want to adapt. Adapting would mean accept what was happening in his life, and he still couldn't bear it. He was just refusing what happened to him. He still couldn't sleep without dreaming of his parents being killed. Nor he could think about them without crying. But in front of them – no, he couldn't. Yet they would be patient to him – out of pity, which was the worst part of the whole situation. But now that his godfather was awake, Draco would feel a little better. He went into that room because he wanted to talk to him, maybe sleep in his bed again – he got not nightmares when he slept with him – but couldn't. Yet, for the first time, he wasn't angry because he couldn't obtain something he wanted. He changed his mind. All he wanted was not to ruin that moment. 

Potter and the others peeked into the room, slowly, curious about that abrupt interruption – and there, they saw them too. They all fell silent. They didn't know how to react. Hermione, as usual, was the first to do something. After some second of shock, she slowly tried to move the others away, down the stairs. Fred took out his wand and closed the door gently, as gentle as he could, so it wouldn't make a noise. 

They went into the kitchen again. They wanted to go to bed, but that was something they had to talk to. Luckily, the adults in the house didn't see it – and now they closed the door, so they could have some privacy. 

“I'll make some tea”, said Ron, while the other sat at the table. Draco sat with them, not quite sure of what to do, but did what the others were doing. One of them started the conversation. He couldn't tell which one. They just seemed so eager to talk about it.

“That was...”  
“Something.”  
“I don't know what to say.”  
“Unexpected. Let's just say this.”  
“Did you know?”  
“No, not at all.”  
“Well...” Potter stiffed, not sure of how to proceed from there “Remus told me something.”  
“What?”

They all looked at him, including Draco. Potter shrugged.

“It was just a suspicion. He told me that him and Tonks spoke to Sirius, and he told him that somehow they already kissed when they were in school.”

They all gasped.

“Wow. Just wow.”  
“Should we tell them something?”  
“No”, said Draco immediately. Everyone fell silent. He never said anything when he was with them. And the urgency in his voice drove all the attention to him “I really don't think that they wanted someone to see that – especially not us. We should keep it to ourselves.”  
“Yes, he's right” said Harry “better pretending we didn't see it.”

They all nodded, then proceeded to drink their tea in silence. 

“Why did we got here again?”  
“Well, didn't you want to talk about it?”  
“We could have done it in our room.”  
“Oh. Hadn't thought about it.”

Then, they didn't know why, they began to laugh. At first it was a light chuckle followed by a soft laugh. They couldn't hold it back. It wasn't because of their kiss – it was because after all those horrors and the upcoming war, they had finally something to ease the tension. And they just took the chance gladly. They began laughing, trying to keep it down and failing miserably. It just felt so good to feel free for some moments, even if it was just a laughter in a kitchen of a secret place they were hiding into. For the first time in weeks – months, to be honest – Draco laughed. And his laugh was not out of something cruel – he was actually enjoying himself. That was a first. When the laughter eased, they found out that Hermione had had the presence to put a Silent charm around them, so they wouldn't be heard. 

“That's a relief” sighed Ron “can you imagine if someone heard?”

That, somehow, made them chuckle again. They were really tired, and wouldn't go back to that explosive laughter. The moment was gone. It wasn't funny anymore. They were silent for a while, looking at their cups. They didn't know who notice first – maybe Fred – but at some point they all realized that Draco was crying. It was a soft cry, like he was desperate not to be notice from them. And they didn't know what to do. Without saying anything, they decided not to pressure him so much and leave him some space. The twins were the first to go up. Hermione and Ginny followed in a minute. It was better if it were just Harry and Ron – two guys of his age. But even like that, it seemed too much. Without saying a word, Ron stood slowly and left. He knew that Harry was the best choice in that case. He had no family, like Draco. He was alone like him. Had witnessed some messed up stuff. And his godfather was kissing the other's godfather upstairs – yes, Harry was the best company for Draco in that moment. 

Ron left the kitchen slowly, watching Harry pour him some more tea. He saw him put an arm around his shoulder, keeping him a little close, while Draco would try not to burst into tears completely. He shut the door slowly, and got into his room. He went to sleep thinking that Harry was his best friend, and he was his, but some things, just some of them – he could be on his own.


	33. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody – sorry for this silence! I've been busy these days and I couldn't write as long as I wanted to. I'm missing you!   
> The story is not over, I promise – lots of things ahead! The war is not over, and there's so much needed comfort ahead before the battle...

Draco and Harry wouldn't say much for a while. Draco would just cry softly, head on the other boy's shoulder, try not to think that that was Harry Potter. He would cry trying not to think that he was doing that in front of his worst enemy – and he was there hugging him, letting him cry without a word, and he was being supportive and silent. 

Draco always had problem crying; he always was surrounded by people telling him that crying was no use, that he had to “man up” and wipe away his tears. He would be called a girl for doing that. He had to be strong and, most of all, show strength. His parents would be all right about it, unless it was in public – they had a reputation, once. But in private his mother would hold him and comfort him – and his father would tell him to stop crying, yes, but he would listen to him and his problems. He had had wonderful parents – and now he had nothing. Only some of their things, all he could take. He had just seconds when they came into his room, and he knew they had to leave fast, and he knew that somehow his godfather was behind that. 

He was terrified by the idea of what he did to him – what they made him do to him – but no one else knew. Not even Potter. That was a relief. That was a secret between them. Something so shameful it had to be private. 

He began crying harder. He couldn't help it. They made him rape him. They made him – they made him torture him. They made him use the whip. They made him rape others, too. They would laugh at him for not being able to do that. His parents didn't know, but that was something they would do to the younger ones – to keep them in line. 

He saw things he wished never existed.   
But they did.   
And they were all in his head.   
Awful memories he couldn't escape from.   
He would not. 

He had to remember.   
He wanted to remember what happened to him – what they were capable of. 

He couldn't tell. He could just cry. He began clinging to Potter's body and arms, asking him to keep him close, to not let him go. 

He felt ashamed for showing such frailty, but Potter would just do that – hug him harder, closer, comforting him, telling him to cry, not to hold in, that he would listen, that they were safe. 

He was so afraid – he couldn't tell – but he was there, and they would hug, and they began kissing without even thinking that they were really doing it. Draco never kissed someone before Harry. Harry could say the same. And that just felt so good and right – all that empathy, and need for comfort, and closeness, and love. They felt the same way – both of them. They were lonely and afraid and found each other, and never felt better about themselves. 

They kissed in the kitchen for a very long time, before heading to Draco's room without a word, walking slowly upstairs, holding hands. Harry was sleeping with Ron and didn't want to wake him up. Plus, he didn't know why they wanted to sleep together, but they just had to. They couldn't spend another moment away from each other – not that night. 

They wouldn't talk. They would slowly undress. They went to bed with just their underwear on, put an heating charm in the room, and get into the bed together. The kiss in bed was slower, more deliberate. Harry would caress Draco's face, neck, hair. He would tentatively touch his arms, stroke his back, all while kissing him tenderly, tongues touching each other in a desperate, thirsty kiss. But Draco would be almost passive, on his side, just kissing him. Harry could tell at some point that he was trembling, tears still in his eyes. He was bursting with desire, but couldn't help notice Draco's conditions. 

“Are your all right?” he asked at some point, holding him into his arms. Draco felt more tears into his eyes.

They were feeling lust for the first time. Yes, Draco had the Lustful Potion – they made him do things with that – but never felt real lust. He could tell the difference. His dick was hard as a rock and he couldn't help but feel that Harry was as hard as he was. All he wanted was to rub and feel and penetrate and moist and hot and good – but he could not keep going. He saw what sex did to people. It would make them scream in pain and horror. Sex made him a torturer. He couldn't do something like that to Harry. He was making him feel so good. And he couldn't let him do something to him – even if he deserved it. 

He was crying. Harry would sit, take his wand on the bedside table, put a Silent charm on the room, and get back to Draco. He was on the side, still crying, curled to a ball, trembling. Harry was on his elbow, looking at him, the other hand gently stroking his cheek. He tried to get close. 

“Draco, it's fine. It's me. You are safe. They're not here anymore.”  
But that made Draco cry even more.

“They... they are not the problem” he whispered, still trembling “I'm the problem. I'm the monster.”

Harry hugged him again, trying to ease his tremors, trying to talk to him.   
It was going to be a long night.


	34. Shadows approaching

They didn't beat Draco. They never laid a hand on him. Nor on his friends. But they made them do things. And he sometimes wondered what was worse – being a victim, or someone's torturer. He sometimes thought that being a victim was better. A victim has integrity. A victim has nothing to be forgiven. A victim can be healed. A victim can be loved again. Snape – he was there kissing Black, and no one would have never dared telling him he didn't deserve it. Because he earned the right to be happy and loved after all that pain and suffering. Everybody loved him and cared for him now. No one would ever tell him to leave again. No one would ever pick on him again They could tell that to Draco at any moment – no matter how tight Potter would hug him and tell him that he was fine and safe. All Draco could do was crying, terrified. 

Draco had been bad. They made him whip people – he did. That cursed whip was so heavy. It would leave deep wounds. He would use it despite his arm burn so bad. He was always so tired. Yet they made him keep going. Laugh at the victim's cries and begging, and ask him why he wouldn't laugh too. He just couldn't. And the fact that he couldn't pretend enjoyment made him an easy target. His friends learned how to fake fun and make the adults thinks that they were going to be good torturer. He couldn't. He had too much empathy. Too little self care. And it made everything worse. They just couldn't let him be. He became their favorite “student”. They all wanted to make him learn. How to whip, how to break bones, tear nails, rape, skin, drink blood. How to humiliate. How to break someone else's spirit. He remembered the smell of the blood on his skin. How hard he had to clean it and how strong that smell still was on his nostrils. Those screams still in his ears. 

Professor Snape didn't scream. He was just too far to scream. He knew. They told him he could still feel, but Draco thought he was just in a coma. He was like a ragging doll. Draco almost thought he was raping a corpse. He just wouldn't move. Was he dead? They would revive him, insulting him, spit on him. Why wasn't he reacting? He then realized – halfway that horrible moment were the Lustful potions was running into his veins like fire, making him push and push and push to ease that constricting feeling – that his godfather was letting him do that. He wasn't screaming on purpose. He was awake and aware. But he knew. Somehow, he knew that Draco didn't want that. He would make him do that. Why did he do that? Why didn't he scream? Why did he made the others save him? Why did he hug him and hold him and sleep with him and forgive him? Draco wasn't sure to deserve that love. He wished no one loved him. If his parents didn't love him, they wouldn't have tried to escape to spare him from those horrible torture nights. If they didn't love him, they would be still alive. 

Potter kept him closer when he began talk about his parents. They loved him and died because of it. And now he had nothing – he deserved nothing. He wanted to leave and be gone. Disappear from the world. He didn't deserve that hug, yet he couldn't tell Potter to leave him alone. He snuggled into his arms and let him console him, let him love him – could he talk about love? Maybe it was too soon, but he could feel it – there was something more than just a quick rub in underwear. 

Harry would listen to Draco's terrified, shocked, tears falling from his eyes. He was so sorry. He couldn't imagine all that – not even in his worst nightmares. He just couldn't. He wanted to tell him, but he just couldn't find the words to. So he just hugged him, kept him close, wiped away his tears. He, too, was a victim. Another type of victim. He had his traumas, too. And Harry thought he had to help him overcome them. 

They would remain together in bed, hugging, skin on skin, kissing, crying, consoling, talking, for a while. Draco was too terrified to go over the kisses and Harry couldn't talk him out of it. Maybe Sirius was having the same problem. Maybe he would've told him everything and asked him for help. It was all so strange – yet he couldn't stop stroking Draco's skin and hair, amazed by how beautiful he looked even when crying, and how badly he wanted to make him feel safe. 

He wished he couldn't go back to school and stay with him all winter to unveil his story, know him, feel him, hear him, live him. 

What he couldn't know, was that his wish was going to become true.


	35. Part of a long night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about this -- i'm so late! I started a new school in a new city and I have very little time. But I'll keep writing in these holiday - hope I can upload another chapter soon! There will be some new revelation soon, but in the meanwhile I wanted to write something more about Severus and Sirius - i just love these guys so much.   
> Kisses to all of you, I love you!

Severus was resting in Sirius' arms. His lover was already sleeping. He was like a kid: he could just sleep everywhere, despite the sunlight from the window or the noises in the house. So peaceful. That worried Severus a little bit. It was like Sirius was feeling good. Feeling safe. He couldn't tell him that he was not allowed to sleep well – of course, he had all the rights. But Sirius had to be ready. They all had to. He wondered if the man he loved knew what was really going on – did he even realize that they were at war? He spent his adult life in prison, then running away. Severus would bet that he couldn't sleep that well while escaping Aurors and Dementors. 

Despite that, he could understand why Sirius would sink into his illusion of peace. Peace was intoxicating. It could get him too, sometimes. He would linger in bed, looking at Sirius' face, touching it with the tip of his fingers, wondering when and how his happiness would end again. He wasn't used to it. He knew happiness could end at any moment, just like life. But that knowledge was not useful to him. He couldn't enjoy a single moment and he was getting tired of the bitterness ruining everything for him. Maybe it would've ended later if he would savor it for a while. But what if something terrible would happen in those few happy moments? He couldn't know. He couldn't risk it.

He was afraid. He was finally admitting it. He was always afraid. Of pain and death, torture and humiliation, yes. But he was beginning to realize he was also afraid to be happy. Maybe the war would come to an end one day. But why wait all that time to be happy? Couldn't he have just a little taste of it now? Just to know what he was fighting for?

He didn't know what to do. In potions, it was easy. He knew the ingredients. The materials. Add this, cut that. How to treat things. The subtle balance that would make the perfect potion. Even love potions – but love, real love, was something else. It needed a balance. Various balances. Compromises. Need. Touch. Talk. Being together. Being alone. Desire. Lust. 

He was feeling lust. That was the whole point. 

He was feeling lust for, basically, the first time in his life, and he didn't know what to do. He never did anything with anyone. He knew that real sex and pleasure didn't involve what he lived. He knew that it could be beautiful, clean, perfect. He was just terrified by the idea – yet he wanted it. 

Him and Sirius had kissed that afternoon. A soft, long kiss just like the one they had years ago. It was like they were teenagers again. Like that kiss erased all those years. Like they were on the snow again. Enraged rebels with their whole life ahead. Not a care in the world. No upcoming war. Just that kiss. 

They went to the bed slowly, locked the door. He asked Sirius to perform a silent charm on the room, and he obeyed. They kissed on the bed. Sirius would be gentle, loving, caressing him, telling him that he missed him so much. That he loved him. That all he wanted was to kiss him, hug him, sleep with him. Severus didn't argue with that. He was sure Sirius really meant it. But he began to wonder what would have happened if one day Sirius realized that he wanted more and couldn't have it because of his trauma. 

At some point, Sirius fell asleep hugging him. But Severus would stay awake, looking at him, terrified and full of desire at the same time. He wanted to wake him up. To ask him things. To share his desire. He wanted to ask him to feel good. He wanted to understand – he couldn't really define what he wanted. He wanted to know. He wanted to ease that constriction he was feeling. Like something was wrong and there was nothing he could do alone. It was a feeling he never experienced – that's how he knew it was desire. He never had it. Not that way. He wanted Sirius to hug him. He wanted his hands on him, even if the idea was terrifying. Hands were never good. But he wanted them to be. He didn't know what to want anymore. He felt confused and utterly alone. He didn't know how to process that feeling, nor how to explain it. He tried to imagine how to explain it to Sirius, and that was the worst feeling ever. 

“Severus?...”

Of course. Severus sighed and looked at his lover, trying to erase those thoughts from his mind.

“Are you all right?”  
“Of course. I was just... having difficulties.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like getting some sleep.”  
“Are you worried?”  
“A little.”

Sirius hugged him tighter, and tried to kiss him, but Severus stirred. He couldn't help it. He wanted Sirius to kiss him until the end of time, he wanted to curl up in his heat, he would have – he didn't even know. Yet he couldn't tell him. He didn't know how. He was afraid of what Sirius would have thought of him. Those were bad thoughts. Dirty thoughts, confusing, shameful. And he, of all people, should have avoided them with all his strength. Yet he could die to feel Sirius's hands more – where? How? He didn't know. Sirius looked at him. 

“Are you still mad at me?”   
“No.”  
“Then why aren't you looking at me?”

Sirius wasn't angry, he knew that. But maybe he was feeling annoyed. Maybe he was getting tired. Maybe one day he would've left him because he was never clear. Because he had too many problems. Or maybe because he was having that type of thought. That desire. Maybe he would feel disgusted by him. How could a raped man get to know desire again, lust, even? But then, again – those who suffered those things, they had to suffer constantly? Never be happy again? Was there a protocol? He didn't know it. 

Sirius' voice interrupted his course of thoughts once again: 

“I know that face.”  
“That's my face.”  
“No, I mean – I know you, you are thinking of something and you don't want to tell me.”  
“No.”  
“Why?”

Severus shrugged. He was on the verge of tears. Sirius came close to his face. Severus wanted to kiss him so bad. So bad. 

“Severus. We talked, all right? I must not hide things from you – but that goes for you as well. Don't hide me things. Please. I'm getting worried. Please.”  
“I don't want you...” Severus swallowed “... to leave me.”  
“Leave you? Why?”  
“Because...” he hesitated.  
“Please... tell me. I won't leave you. What is it?”  
“I'm feeling... something.”  
“Like what?”

Severus tried to explain him. How shameful he was. How dirty he was being. The desire he was feeling and his guilt. He wasn't supposed to feel lust, was he? He should have been disgusted by human contact, after what he lived. Yet he could sense that something, inside him, was changing fast. Sirius didn't seem disgusted, so he kept talking. And talking. He wanted to touch his skin, but felt so guilty about it. He wanted to be touched, but couldn't dare to ask. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever. I wish I could be happy with what we have. But I think I'm wanting something more. And I know that someday you'll want something more, too.”   
“So what?”  
“I don't know. Maybe I'm not supposed to feel this way. Maybe I'm feeling something that I'm not supposed to feel. Maybe I will be disappointing to you. I don't know.”  
“Severus. Look at me.”

He finally looked at him. To his surprise and relief, Sirius didn't even seem angry. He just seemed puzzled.

“You think too much.”

Severus smiled a little, somehow relieved. Sirius hugged him. They stood like this for a while, embraced, close, happy. 

“We can begin... slowly. We can try together. See what you can handle.”  
“Now?”  
“Would you like it?”

Severus considered it for a few seconds, then nodded. He was afraid his happiness wouldn't last longer and he wanted to treasure every second of it.


	36. First times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm on a vacation, I'll try to continue the story as much as I can.   
> I felt so guilty these weeks without you.  
> I love you all. Hugs **

He could feel his heart pounding like a crazy bird in a cage. He could feel its wings and panic inside his chest. He could feel its urge to fly away. Yet he was on his – their bed, unable to move, and he didn't know if it was for lust or panic. Sirius begged him to tell him when he wanted him to stop. He began telling him everything he was going to do. He wanted him to feel safe. He kept kissing him and telling him that he loved him. Then slowly – so slowly – he moved to his neck and kissed it as gentle as he could. That was a first – he never had someone kiss him there. Once, twice, bites. Bad bites. Teeth. Laughs. He tensed at the memory, and Sirius stopped. There was a moment of silence, then Severus told him. Maybe it was a good thing that he knew. That he could replace those memories with something more pleasant. That he could tell the difference. 

That's what they did. Severus would tell him the memory he had on his body, and Sirius would repair them. He told him about the bites on the neck and Sirius kissed him there, tenderly, softly. He would've gladly licked it too, but he knew it was too soon. One step at the time. He would begin from there. He had to wait. Patience was necessary at that point. Sirius loved him dearly and would've loved to show him, but he had to wait. His groin was hurting like hell from desire, but he had to wait. He would've waited for years, if necessary. Forever, if necessary. But he knew that forever was not an option – Severus was wanting more, too. He deserved it. He deserved to feel his body loved. He deserved to feel pleasure. He couldn't live with all those awful memories. It was not right. 

The room was already isolated. It was warm and secure. Sirius took off his own shirt, then took away Severus' too. He had all those scars. He wanted to cover himself up, but Sirius was still on top of him. His skin was so warm. He was making him feel so good. It was the first time that he wasn't feeling trapped under another body. He wasn't panicking – not as much as he feared. It was all so strange and new for him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel – but he trusted Sirius, and that was all that mattered. He began kissing his scars – from the ones on his shoulders and navel to his bellybutton and groin – all that scars, one by one. Voice slightly shaking, Severus told him what they were – the whips, the humiliation, the way they treated him when they weren't raping him – all the torture that they inflicted him – and for every one of them, he gained a kiss. 

A little trail of love over that line of torture and pain – it was poetic, in a way. It was a symbol of his new life. A type of spell. A love ritual. Erasing pain for pleasure. Something that didn't need wands or potions. A type of magic they could never study. It was not something to be learned - it was something to live. Sirius kept caressing him, kissing him – every trace, every torture began to become something else. Something he could not understand. How was it possible – how could pain be so understandable, and love so mysterious? 

Sirius was right there – he could feel his dick hard like he never had, not even alone – he felt arousal when he was a teenager, yes, but he never – his face was just few inches away, and he couldn't help but move his hip a little – just a little – he wanted to be touched so bad, he couldn't help it. It was so strange for him. So strange. And new. Yes, he masturbated sometimes. Few times. But it was... different. Those shameful moments alone in his bed, in the dark, were not the same thing. At all. That was being vulnerable. Naked in front of another people. It was a matter of trust, love, care. All of that was destroyed by Death Eaters, and there they were, trying to erase everything. Make everything new and beautiful again. 

Sirius began touching him – there – still his pants on, he began touching him so lightly, watching him, careful to any sign of distress. Severus seemed so puzzled, yet aroused, his cheeks suddenly red. He came back to him, kissing him, his hand still on him. They went on like this for a while – Sirius just kissing him, stroking him, easing him, hand still on his crotch. Eventually he went under the pants – slowly, asking him in a husky voice, in the ear, yet he asked, and Severus mumbled a 'yes', so little, almost whispered, that almost drove him mad – but he had to control himself – and finally touched him, and Severus gasped, yet he didn't seem distressed – surprised, aroused – he was feeling good – and they went on like this for a little while again, then Sirius kissed him again – he, himself, was as hard as a rock – and went down again. He took away Severus' pants and his as well – they were both naked now. He wanted to make him feel good. He began kissing him there, licking his dick, sucking it – that was something no one did to him, he was sure of it. He began sucking him off while masturbating – he couldn't ask Severus to do something to him yet, but he had to do something for himself as well. He felt that, otherwise, he could explode. 

Severus began moaning – that was pleasure, Sirius was sure of it – and continued, masturbating himself as well, keeping himself from penetrating Severus – that was obviously too soon – but his soft moans of pleasure kept him going and came almost immediately, his dick still in his mouth – one, two movements with his tongue and felt Severus come in his mouth as well. He swallowed everything, licked him clean – he would've licked him whole, he would've drank everything from him – and rose, panting. He was still red, his legs sticky with his own semen, and looked at Severus.

He was trembling and crying softly. He seemed unable to talk. Sirius hurried to his side and hugged him and apologized. Did he went too far? Did he hurt him? Was he in pain? Severus shook his head and hugged him back, like clinging on him, desperate. Sirius realized – that was his first orgasm. With another person. The first time he allowed himself to be so vulnerable – willingly – by the presence of another human being. He never felt anything like that before. Sirius remembered his first orgasm – how good he felt, yet so lost and alone. Not only Severus felt that way – but guilty for feeling pleasure by something that gave him so much pain in the recent past. He was still traumatized by what he lived, what they did to him. He wanted to forget, he wanted to feel alive so badly, yet he couldn't do that completely. It was not just about sex and pleasure – a part of him was still in that cell, tortured and abandoned, alone and desperate. He was feeling like he could never be free from that time. 

It was not the pain – it was the consequences. 

What was still inside him.   
What they really did to him – they changed him. 

They took away his right to be happy. 

Was that going to be like this forever? Was he condemned to think of them every time he'd have sex? 

Sirius hugged him tighter and kept whispering in his ear: 

“That's ok. That's ok. Sssssh. That's ok. I'm here. I'm here. I love you. I'll always love you.”


	37. Sorry

While a crying Severus was still hugged and comforted by his lover, in another room Draco and Harry were just sleeping. They talked and talked, and hugged, and cried together, and touched a little, in the innocent way teenagers still have, and fell asleep, arms and legs entwined together. For the first time Draco didn't have any nightmares while sleeping without his godfather. He just had a long, restoring night of sleep. Draco felt like relieved that he couldn't sleep with him. He was happy that Harry was there instead.

He hated him for most of his life – well, they hated each other the same way – but everything was different now. He was alone, a poor orphan, and for the first time in a long time he was feeling safe. He wondered if all this could've happened if his parents didn't die, or if the war didn't happen. Probably not. And not because he was not attracted by Harry – he was – or didn't think he was somehow worth of his love and attention, but because he would've never gave him or himself the chance to find out. He was so blinded by his condition – his family, his money, his beliefs – he couldn't allow himself to explore the world around him. Only now he was realizing how stupid he was, and how much he was missing out by hating people, insulting them, belittling them.

That's the reason why, while Harry was still sleeping – he would wake up so late, just like his godfather – he dressed and went out looking for the others. Ron, Ginny and the twins were still sleeping – of course, the Weasleys seemed to be unaware of a decent time of waking up – but he found Hermione in the kitchen, having breakfast. No sign from Lupin nor Tonks – maybe they were still sleeping, too? – but he didn't care. He was not looking for those two. He really wanted to talk with Hermione. He almost felt relieved that no one was around. So, he joined her for breakfast, pretending he didn't notice her awkwardness, nor he acknowledged her shock when he offered to make some more tea. He was trying to be nice, but he knew that she still needed some time to trust him. They'd all been nice to him, even thought he hadn't been particularly nice to them all that time. Yes, he'd been traumatized – he still was – but he wanted to make some things clear with them all. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that he had to begin with Hermione. So, at some point, while they were both drinking the tea that Draco had made, he cleared his throat and said:

“I'm sorry.”

Hermione looked at him, glanced at her cup, and him again.

“I didn't poison the tea, you know.”

Hermione chuckled nervously, but Draco wasn't really kidding – he knew that she may be thinking that – that was why they had to talk.

“I'm serious. I was a jerk to you. I've been a jerk since the first year. I don't know how to make it up to you, but I'm realizing it now, and I wanted to tell you – I really don't know what to do, more than this. So I'm sorry.”

Hermione gave him a long look, then drank her tea again.

“I believe you. You're getting angry. That means you're embarassed. So it must be true.”

Now it was the turn of Draco to chuckle nervously.

“Well... ok. I'm not saying that because I want your forgiveness or something. I just thought I had to say something.”  
“I appreciate it. Really. Thank you.”

They drank silently for a while, then Hermione sighed.

“I don't know what to say.”  
“Nothing. It was my thing, not yours. You don't have to respond.”  
“I don't know if I can say I forgive you. I mean...”  
“I know. I'm sorry.”

She looked at her empty cup, a little sad smile on her face.

“You know, it's funny. You imagine something for a while and then – then it happens and you feel absolutely nothing. I've been wanting this – you apologizing to me – for the longest time.”  
“I can imagine.”  
“And now I don't know what to say.”  
“I know.”  
“I could tell you to fuck off, you know.”

Draco laughed.

“I have no doubt about it, Granger.”  
“But I can't – that's the point, I can't. I can't hate you.”

Draco became serious again.

“You don't have to be kind to me just because you feel sorry for me. You can hate me if you want.”

Hermione shook her head.

“It's not this. I'm sorry for what happened to you. Really, I am. But it's not that. It's... I've got to know you a little bit, these days. You're a nice guy. You lost everything, yet you didn't hate on us, pick on us, call us names. The Draco I thought you were would have insulted us all and refused to sleep in the same house with us.”  
“I had no choice.”  
“You know what I mean. I changed my mind about you.”  
“Ah.”

There was a little, awkward silence. She rose to make some more tea. He looked at her. She was cute, in her own way. He never thought that about her – nor any girl, he realized. He never really thought that about anyone. He'd enjoy only those who would be around him, admiring him, so he couldn't always be realistic about people. But he realized that he was wrong in calling her ugly. She wasn't a beauty, but he had been unfair. Then he thought – it was not about her appearance. It was because they were talking. They were trying to know each other. Without hate, he could see her without any difficulty. Hate almost ruined his life. He really was missing so much. When she came back with the tea, he told her about it. He avoided telling her she was cute – he could've been misunderstood, and that was the last thing he wanted. But she got him anyway and nodded.

“That's what is happening with me too. You're not that bad. And it's really painful for me to say that.”

That time, they both chuckled. They felt a little relieved. It was like a little weight was off their chest. They felt suddenly lighter. And all it took was a little talk. It was so easy, Draco thought. So easy. He should've done that a long time ago. Just a little talk made it so much better.

 _If only all life could be this easy_ , he thought.

It was not, but he wanted to believe it. Just for a little while. He wanted to believe in peace. That it was really so easy to be around people. He wanted to forget his situation. Just for a minute. But he felt so guilty at the same time. He thought about his parents. They would've been happy to know that he was doing fine. That he was healing. Feeling better. But he wanted them back so badly.

He still remembered when they died. They'd been separated for a while. Draco was refusing to take the Dark Mark. Then they called him and took him to that room. His parents didn't even look like themselves. They were there, scared, in poor clothes he'd never seen on them, and didn't even look at him. He was screaming so much, begging, crying, but they were so scared to even pay attention to him. He'd wanted so much to hear at least a goodbye. It was so strange. He thought that maybe they'd been tortured. He wondered what they'd do to them. Then the Dark Lord began talking to him. That that was what happened to traitors like his parents. That he had to learn. That he was still on time. That he could bring up the good name of the Malfoys – not like those rotten apples. Then he raised his wand and killed them. They took them away like garbage and there he was – alone.

He was crying again, and didn't even realize it. Hermione was there, hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, uncertain of what to do. Luckily, Severus and Sirius entered the kitchen that same moment, and Draco rose immediately to hug his godfather. His slender arms were the closest thing he could ever have to a parent, and he wanted to savour it every time he could.


	38. Loneliness is godliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emptiness is loneliness  
> and loneliness is cleanliness  
> and cleanliness is godliness  
> and God is empty  
> just like me 
> 
> Smashing Pumpkins - Zero

_That same time_   
_Voldemort's prison_

 

The clean, dark, long corridor of stone was empty, if not for the lonely, tall figure of a man that was crossing it. And the constant screaming, begging, howling that seemed to came from the walls and made the place like crowded with damned souls. The tall man was walking without a frown, like he was accustomed to that horrific sound.

It was, in fact, almost a music to him – those who tried to stop him were there. Almost all of them. That was the chant of his enemies. The hymn of his victory. That was what they deserved. Any time a new prisoner would be brought there, he or she would've been forced to walk all over the place, hearing everything – the pain, the horror – to understand what was going to happen to him. Or her. Strangely enough, the prisoner were almost all males. Women were more loyal to him. He had a tendency to trust them more. Bellatrix was his favorite for a reason, after all. Loyal. Feral. Wonderfully sadistic. Females could be so cruel. Torture you without even raising a wand. When they were evil, they could be pure evil. He trusted her most of the time. And her ideas, most of the time, were indeed good.

Lord Voldemort didn't have a mind for torture. He just enjoyed killing. But Bellatrix was teaching him the value of torture and despair. And for that – only for that – he was willing to be a student again.

He smiled, still walking. The corridor was long and he would walk slowly, savoring every step. He really enjoyed that place. It was his favorite. Ah, dear Bellatrix was so close to be there too – for a while, maybe, just a little, just to make sure she wouldn't make other mistakes. Maybe she would've learned something. She was so full of initiatives. So many good ideas. But Draco – she made him run away. Damned Dumbledore was behind all that, he was sure of it. How could they avoid the security and get to Draco was beyond him. He obviously had another spy among his army. Severus couldn't possibly know everything – he had to be still alive, because the spells on his things were still on. But what life was he living now? Oh, he could just imagine Dumbledore's shock and pain at the mere sight of his puppet reduced at a public whore for his enemies. Oh, what a joy! He was so happy just thinking of his dumb face and his useless tears! Maybe Severus was still alive, but useless.  
Just a burden to them all.

Yet they wouldn't kill him, because of their loyalty – they thought they were so good, better than him, they couldn't do something he would do. They couldn't kill him. And that sentimentalism would led them all to their death. But he didn't care. Severus had what he deserved and was no use nor threat to him anymore. But Draco, little Draco, he needed him. His precious, pure blood. He needed him. His blood. His seed.

He opened one of the doors at the end of the corridor – the side with less screaming. In that part people would be treated a little better. They had other purpose. They were useful for other reasons. So they had a bed and some food, sometimes. They where needed, just like the man in the cell. Lucius Malfoy was on the bed, empty eyes on the ceiling. He didn't hear him. He could be so silent, if he wanted to. He could sneak anywhere. And to see Lucius when he thought he was alone... it was perfect. A perfect vision. When he was alone, he was just so desperate. He would be there on the bed, lonely, defeated. He didn't seem to realize how lucky he was, compared to other prisoners. A bed, food, even?... that was too much, but it was necessary. He was needed in good conditions. He couldn't be tortured like the others. But Voldemort enjoyed anyway his empty stare, his depression, his passive state. It made him laugh. It was fun. What was even funnier, was that Narcissa was in the cell next to his, crying her heart out all day, thinking that her husband and her son were both dead. And Lucius would just be silent and quiet for the same reason.

“Enjoying yourself, Lucius?” he purred. Lucius would jump out of bed, his eyes filled with terror. He didn't answer. Oh, he was so afraid. So lost. So alone in his cell.  
“Today there will be other three. I hope you'll make something useful of your body, this time.”

Lucius began to tremble, tears filling his eyes, and Voldemort couldn't help but laugh at his desperation. Oh, three times in a row with the lustful potions, in front of the others – with their little help, oh, that was so humiliating. And painful.

“Kneel, Lucius. Beg me. I could spare you one.”  
Lucius was still trembling. He kneeled. Slowly, but he did. He was crying already. Everyone had a perfect torture. Some would break, some would not. Lucius was already defeated. Because he had no hope anymore. But oh, it was so fun to look at him.  
“No? No begging?”

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, tears running on his face. Pathetic. He tried to speak, and speak again. Voldemort laughed at his puzzled face. He took away his voice a long time ago, but he made him forget about it so he could just watch him try and fail every time. He just liked to see him that way. A lot of ways. Some other things, he didn't make him forget those other things. Like the time he made the house elves spank him. Fist him. Or that time that he made him lick the floor in front of everyone. Public humiliation was the key to keep him quiet. He definitely broke him. He could never recover. Never.

He left the cell leaving him there alone, crying on the floor, already forgetting that he had no voice.

Voldemort couldn't kill them, of course. They were pureblood. So rare, so precious. He couldn't just kill them and waste all that perfection. He could only use them as a breed, to spread more pure blood into the new generations. He couldn't use them otherwise. Narcissa could be raped only by purebloods, hoping to get her pregnant soon, and they would force Lucius on other purebloods – willing or not. He never was anyway, but it didn't matter. They always had to use the lustful potion on him.

No one knew the others were alive. That was Bellatrix' idea. She hated what her sister did, so she didn't really care about what they were doing to her. Only her blood mattered, and that was still there, available for new wizards and witches. Draco could still be saved and be brought to the right side, though. That's why she insisted so much to be left alone with him, and try to convince him. Break him. Make him watch his parents die – two prisoners with Polijuice potion waiting to be killed, nothing more. They could have had him, break him, if he didn't escape. But it was not too late. He was alone in the world. They could find him again, take him back, break him, or at least use his blood too. Even on his mother, if necessary. Concealing their faces so they couldn't see each other. They couldn't know that they were alive.

The family was broken.  
It had to stay broken.

No hope, no revolution.

In those conditions, they would never fight back. No one knew that Lucius and Narcissa were alive. Just him and Bellatrix. He could trust no one but her. But if she couldn't find Draco soon, she would become another prisoner – and he would be alone again, gladly. Love and family was everyone's weakness, but his. He was complete, because he was alone. He had no one. Therefore he was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> too many new chapters, I know - I'm so happy! Make sure you read them all :* see you soon!


	39. Breeding

They arranged a meeting. Something was going on. Severus had a bad feeling about it. Him and Sirius were doing surprisingly well together, which he was sure was a bad sign. Sirius was being a careful and sweet lover, more than he could ever hope. His fears were vanishing, one after another. He couldn't accept more than what they did last time, not yet – but he was still exploring, and Sirius was happy to help him knowing new things. He would suck him off almost every night, every time he would ask him to, and then he would cuddle him to sleep. He felt so loved he kept thinking that life, for the first time, was giving something back to him. He still didn't have the courage to touch him back, though – all he could think was all the other times he had a dick inside his mouth or... else, and couldn't fight that thinking. But Sirius didn't seem to mind. He was showing Severus his love – Severus was allowing him into his life – and that was all that mattered to him. He loved to think that one day everything would have been over, and they could've lived like that forever.

But they had to survive the war first – something that both were secretly fearing couldn't be possible. Happiness was so perfect, they both thought couldn't last long. Sirius would try to ignore that thought, but Severus couldn't snub it. The closer the meeting, the scarier he got. He spent the evening in the kitchen, close to Sirius, while the others were cooking. It was the first time he was willing to be this close to him in front of the others, even if the other were only Remus and Tonks and they didn't seem impressed at all. He just took some distance when the kids entered the kitchen. He didn't know how he could possibly tell Draco about his new love. He couldn't possibly know that Draco was having the same problem. They would both enjoy the feeling of a first love in secret. Harry and Sirius had the same problem as well. No one would tell the others. They would just live and see what would've happened in the future.

It was the first reunion with Draco in the house. They told him he couldn't attend and had to wait with the other kids, but it took him just a glance to Harry to know that they knew how to “attend” in their own way. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Those were the people he was accustomed to hate. He grew up hating them all. Now he was having dinner with them, laughing with them – hell, he was also loving one of them. He didn't know how to proceed, so he just decided to go with the flow. Let them make him feel safe, let Mrs Weasley cook for him and let Harry take his hand under the table. Just see what would happen next. He was tired of being afraid, but he knew that real peace wasn't there yet. There was nothing else he could do but wait.

*

Dumbledore seemed older than usual, more tired, almost frail. He arrived late and didn't even say “good evening”, not a word. Just a problem, the reason that meeting was arranged. Very simple, yet horrible: there was a lot of people missing. They were – sadly – used to it: muggleborn were missing at a worrying rate and they couldn't stop it, despite all their efforts. But it was not the muggleborn. It was the pureblood. Entire families just gone. It was not like they moved away. It was like they just disappeared, exactly like the muggleborns. Mostly, pureblood families that never had anything to do with Voldemort.

“Because of their blood”, said Severus. Everyone looked at him shocked, but they knew he could be right. Only Shacklebolt seemed a bit skeptical.  
“I just don't see why”, he said, but Severus had a theory about that as well  
“Breeding. That could be it. They are trying to have more purebloods as possible. They don't really have a problem with halfblood, as you may know. But purebloods are so rare, they may be just be trying to have more of them for the future. I've never heard of such a plan, but... the Dark Lord... he was obsessed by it. He was afraid that purebloods could just go extinct one day, and always said that he'd do anything to avoid that.”  
“So he would just...”  
“... make them breed. You got it. It's just an idea, of course. But it's all I could think about.”

They all looked at him horrified. They knew he could be right. It was a really good explanation.

“We have to find out what's going on”, said Albus, and everyone agreed. Moody, Shaklebolt and Arthur would try to investigate during work time. Severus couldn't help but think that he was a pureblood too. He and all his family. All his kids were purebloods. He had to be careful. The kids couldn't go back to school – it wasn't safe – he didn't know how to say that. So he didn't. But there was something else he could do. Something he was good at. He could investigate. So, while the others were trying to make a plan, he rose and said.

“I'll go investigate myself.”

Everyone turned to him. Sirius felt his heart stop and hoped he didn't hear well. Then he hoped it was just his own imagination, but the others' shocked expression would tell him that yes, he really said that. So Sirius hoped it was just a joke, but his lover didn't seem to be joking. He kept looking at the others.

“I'm the only one who knows them all. I can track them down again. Find out more. Maybe I could --”  
“No.”  
“I'm not asking for your permission, Albus.”  
“There's nothing to ask. You won't go.”

They stood still for a long moment, staring at each other.

“So now you worry about me, or what?”  
“Would that be so strange?”  
“Yes. It would. You left me there knowing what they were doing to me - ”  
“And I won't risk you falling in that situation again.”  
“Don't worry. I would kill myself before they get to me.”  
“You didn't have the time to escape, the last time. How could you possibly kill yourself?”  
“I didn't have the poison with me. I felt confident that you would come and save me – now I would have something with me. I would die before they get me again. But I would die trying to save my students.”  
“You can't save everyone alone, Severus. Just let us do what we can.”  
“But I can do more, Albus!”  
“What about Draco?” asked Sirius, abruptly. Severus didn't look at him. He couldn't. He knew that Sirius was really asking _What about me?_  
“You can't go back anyway”, said Remus, “you've barely made it out the last time.”  
“Because I was sick.”  
“You're not any better now. All that Polijuice Potion almost killed you. And you know that.”  
“Do you have a better idea, Remus?”  
“Well, no, but --”  
“Then I'll go.”  
“I said no, Severus. Sit down.”  
“But Albus --”  
“Sit. Down. We said we had to talk, someday. Well, we'll talk after this meeting.”

Severus sat, eyes to the ground. He could tell that Sirius was hurt, but couldn't bring himself to look at him. One problem at the time. And all he could think about in that moment was his students. His Slytherins. Some of them came from Death Eaters families, but he knew that not all of them wanted to be one. And maybe they were out there, where he was to, trying to... breed. That was beyond himself. He couldn't leave them there. Maybe he was wrong. But he had to make sure. Remus was right, he was not well. It could be dangerous for his recovery. But he didn't see other solutions. And he had to try to convince Albus of it. Then Sirius.


	40. He can't go

The meeting was over, in theory, but that story was far from it. Without a word, Severus and Albus went in the library and closed the door. Sirius tried to follow them – tried – but Severus didn't even look at him. He could tell by the stress on his face that he was desperately trying not to look at him – he decided that he had to save his students, and he would have done that despite Albus, despite the Order. Despite him. 

He stood outside that door. Of course, whatever spell did Dumbledore they could never listen to any of it. They didn't isolate the meetings because they knew that no one could listen to those – except for the kids, of course – but that... that couldn't be listened. He wondered if Dumbledore did those spells because he didn't trust them, or just him – and didn't want him to listen. Of course, the door was also locked. Whatever was happening in that room, it was a secret he could never know. 

“Tea, Sirius?” asked Arthur, but he shook his head. He would have waited just there while the Order would look at him, puzzled at his reaction. Sirius was crying without even realizing it. 

“Sirius. Sit.” Remus brought him a chair and left him there, shushing the others away, making them move to the kitchen. He knew that Sirius needed to be alone. The others would ask him questions, but Remus was discreet enough not to tell them one thing. There were some suspects, though. It was so obvious Sirius wondered how they couldn't understand it yet. Remus and Tonks understood their love even before they'd tell each other about it.

He would've waited there, alone, if someone wouldn't approach the door. Maybe it was Remus with a cup of tea?... but he turned, and it was Draco Malfoy. The kids were on the stairs, as pale as ghosts, looking at them in front of the door. There was something unsettling in Draco's face; he had red, haunted eyes and was paler than ever. Sirius rose from the chair, looking at him. The boy had heard the reunion, he had no doubt about it. He heard it all. The disappearing of other purebloods, Severus wanting to go back out there. His silence was unnerving. Draco was looking intensely at the door, tears running on his cheeks. He was trembling. He looked on the verge of a breakdown. Sirius looked over his shoulder, to the kids. They were all crying sitting on the stairs, even the twins. Harry was crying even more than the others. Such a strange look on his face, while looking ad Draco. It reminded Sirius of his own face, while Severus was missing. Was it possible that...? But he couldn't finish his own thought, because the adults came out of the kitchen. Was it instinct? Draco's whimpering? So strange – they were all there, in that corridor, because something was deeply wrong and they could all sense it. All but Dumbledore and Severus. 

Sirius tried to break that alarming silence. 

“Draco...”  
“He can't go” said Draco “he can't.”   
His voice was so desperate Sirius felt his heart break for the poor boy. He tried to get close to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Draco began sobbing. He was going to break, and Sirius hoped he would. At least he would've been better later. He tried to meet his gaze.  
“It's ok. He can make it, you know. He collected all the informations to set you free, and he was in desperate conditions. Now he's better. He could fight them all, if he wanted to. But you'll see – Dumbledore will make him change his mind. He'll stay here with us, he'll recover, he'll be fine. Trust me.”

He was lying. Severus was not better at all. He was still often sick, still painfully thin, still unable to go outside. His will – that was strong as hell. Only his confidence was improving. That was awesome and bad at the same time. Because he was becoming so strong, there was no way that Dumbledore could convince him to stay at home and wait for the others to do what once was his job. 

It seemed that Draco knew that too – Severus was his godfather, basically he raised him as an uncle, he knew him too well – because he finally began crying, covering his face with his hands. Sirius looked at the others, uncertain of what to do. The kids looked already defeated. What did they heard? What did Draco told them? But Draco began to speak – and Sirius had no doubt that that was what he had told the others, the reason they were all crying: 

“He was right, you know”  
“About what?”  
“The breeding. He was right. They... they made us do things...”

Draco was shaking. His eyes were not looking at Sirius, nothing in particular – he was looking away at something else, he was somewhere else, in his own trauma. Sirius looked at Harry again. He could tell that he wanted to be close to Draco, but was too afraid of doing the wrong thing, like every teenager in the world. Teenagers. Draco was barely fifteen, and had already seen the worst imaginable things. 

“They... I know who the others are. I was not alone. I mean, I was. In the house. But not there in the cells. They would bring us there, they... they made us...” Draco inhaled sharply, obviously trying to have some courage – Sirius wanted him to stop there, but he continued, everyone just too shocked by his haunted face to say something “they made us torture people. They forced... they forced us on them. They would... make us drink... the potion to...”

Sirius heard someone gasp in shock – Molly? But they all were, really. Only Sirius and, maybe, Alastor weren't that surprised. They knew what they were capable of. Just, not on children. Sirius reached Draco, and took his hands off his face. Draco looked at him, almost surprised he was there – but he kept talking, crying, terrified, unable to stop: 

“I was not the only one. Also my friends. They told me that they couldn't go back to school. There were other guys I didn't know – yes, they were all purebloods, they told me that they were taken for that reason – and their parents were killed, some said it wasn't true, I don't know – we couldn't talk – they made us – the screaming – some of them could fake having fun while torturing people, but I couldn't – that's why they made me – it was funny to watch me cry while – they made me rape people... they said I had to... there were so many... they made me... I had no choice...” 

He couldn't talk anymore. Draco would have fallen to the ground, crying out loud, if Sirius didn't catch him into his arms. He tried to comfort him as best as he could. He was so young; so young. He had no words. None of them could talk. They couldn't imagine that things could be that bad – but they had to know, right? They had to stop it. Stop everything. Suddenly, Sirius understood why Severus wanted to get back into action so badly. He knew what they were really capable of. 

Luckily, Alastor Moody decided to intervene and take Draco out of his misery. He reached for him, shook him gently, and looked at him in the eyes, while still in Sirius' embrace. 

“Listen now, lad. What happened is in the past. It's not going to happen again. Not to you, nor Severus Snape – no one else. I know what happened to him. I know, all right? Yet he's still here and ready to fight, isn't he? And you are too. I have a plan. Whatever they decide in that room, I won't let that happen He won't go. We can't afford his death, right now. So don't worry. You come to the kitchen with me. It will be fine. Sirius – take some firewhisky in the kitchen, please. I think that we all need it.” 

He abruptly pushed Draco in the kitchen, gesturing the others to follow him too – and Sirius was happy to take his firewhisky. He really needed a drink. He was happy to know that Alastor was on their side. 

He stopped by the door again with two bottles of firewhisky. Severus and Albus were still inside, still talking. They didn't know what happened yet. A horrible thought came into his mind – Draco said that they made him rape people – the first thing that said to Severus once he woke was “forgive me”. Could it be...? He couldn't think about it. No. If it was real, it didn't have to be said. Ever. No one could know.


	41. On the other side of the door

On the other side of the door, Severus and Albus spent the first, long seconds in silence. Severus couldn't bear the idea to look at him, so he went to the window. It was raining. When he was a kid, he thought that it would always rain when he was sad. The magical thoughts a kid would have. When he grew up, he understood that he had no effect on anything whatsoever. That was why he wanted to do something so badly. He could really do something. He could find some more informations around. Find his kids. He couldn't go there on his own, of corse – he could just find them. Meake the Order save them. Then, they would've thought of something. Some place to keep them safe. Not the school, no – couldn't Albus know a place, maybe? He turned around – Albus was just right behind him, eyes full of pity and sorrow. 

“Albus --”  
Severus couldn't even finish his sentence. Albus took him and pinned to the wall next to them – he just pinned him, with all the strength he had. He was very strong for a man of his age – and Severus was still so thin and fragile, like the finest crystal – he couldn't gain any weight, he would sleep most of the day, and his moments alone with Sirius would leave him exhausted – no, he couldn't fight. But he didn't need fighting, did he? He managed to get informations about Draco alone, and he was weaker than he was now. 

“If you'd be found – it didn't happen last time, you're right – you were good, Severus. But don't you think that maybe they could be more aware now? More careful? They could take you in a moment.” He let him back on the floor, but kept him on the wall, unable to move “They couldn't be so merciful this time. They would destroy you, Severus. You can't go.”  
Severus swallowed. He felt a lump in his throat that couldn't go away and felt tears forming in his eyes. Albus didn't seem to enjoy his fear, one bit. Yet he couldn't let him go. He kept him against his body, on the wall, feeling constricted, fearful, kept against his will – he didn't want him to feel comfortable. That was his whole point. 

“Listen to me. It hurts me to treat you like this – trust me, young boy.”  
“Please don't call me--”  
Severus tried to free himself weakly – weak, he was so weak – Albus took his frail wrists in his hands and put them on the wall. Severus felt exposed, he didn't want to be there, so close to that body – he seemed so tall and scary – he just wanted to free himself, but couldn't. He pleaded again, but Albus didn't let him go.

“Listen to me, young boy” he tightened the grip on his wrists until he yelped for the pain – no one could hear him, he knew that – he was alone – Albus kept talking “I did a terrible, a horrible mistake. I was awful to you since you were a student. Then I let you down again while you were saving my life every single minute. That is my fault. I take full responsibility for it. I will apologize until I die. But I won't let you down again. I won't let you put your life at risk again.”  
“So you're trying to redeem yourself for being awful to me... by being awful to me once again?” asked Severus, voice trembling, so weak he could fall on the floor if Albus hadn't pinned him on the wall. He felt he could die. He wanted to escape that forceful contact. He felt violated, humiliated. He couldn't go anywhere. He knew that Albus couldn't possibly harm him in any way. But he did it.

“I'm sorry, my boy. I'm sorry.” 

Severus was too weak. His mind was too open. He could resist in those conditions, but now his fear – he was so defenseless – Album entered his mind like it was open. He couldn't get him out. He showed him what he knew. He knew about Draco. He had all those memories. Albus saw everything. He could share those memories with him once again. And again and again. Severus felt he could die. How long was it?... it felt like days again. Despite his pride, Severus began crying. Something wet – he was pissing himself, just like he did in his memory. Yet he couldn't stop having that memory. 

“Albus, please--”  
“If you plead me now, what could you do with them? Listen to me – you were strong, my child. You've been incredibly strong. But you did too much. And all that Polijuice Potion almost killed you. If they catch you, these memories could be... almost happy. They could do worse than this. You know that. And you can't fight them now. Not like this. You can't even fight me. You're weak. You're not ready. You can't go. You can't. They'll take you again.”

Another memory. Other beatings. Another rape. It was like they were seeing a movie together. Their shared memories. They were reliving them. Together. 

“If you go, you'll talk. And we will be all dead.”

Severus didn't break for a month. He was breaking down now. Maybe it was different when your tormentor is someone you hate. Not someone you love. Love makes you weak. Makes you vulnerable. And he loved Albus as a father despite all he did to him. Maybe because his real father was also an asshole, he thought at some point. Oh, but Albus didn't need to beat him like his father did, or rape him like the Death Eaters did, right? He could hit some spots on his brain, expose him right open just with his mind. And he did. They relived those memories together. Severus didn't want it. Albus made him. He relived those memories too. They both cried. Severus asked him to stop, he begged, he didn't want to relive those days all over again. But Albus kept reliving those memories in both minds. Severus couldn't possibly want all that again. He had to stay safe. Albus had to make sure he would understand. He made him relive lots of things. The worst ones. The first time. The tortures. Lucius. The whip. The crying. The laughs. Draco. Draco again. How could he put himself in danger again? What if they did that to Sirius? In front of him? Hadn't Severus thought about him too? 

“Do this for him. Stay safe. Don't go.”

Albus knew how to break him. He did it just to protect him. Of course. But he had to show him who was still in command. He couldn't take other initiatives. He couldn't risk it. He was one of the greatest wizards of all times and he had a mission. He couldn't afford weakness, and Severus was too weak. He couldn't afford him. He had to make sure he was too afraid to go. He had to understand. It took him hours, but he did it. He tormented him. Made him see. Relive it all. See that he couldn't fight. He couldn't do anything. He just had to obey. To trust him. He had to. It was killing him. But he had to. For the sake of the mission. 

When he finished convincing Severus, he made him sit on an armchair, whimpering and trembling. He was staring at the void with wide, terrified eyes, and couldn't stop crying. Albus cleaned him. He caressed him dearly, sorrow and tears in his eyes. 

“I'm sorry, my child. I did this for you. You have to understand. I can't let you go.”  
Severus nodded, crying, looking at a far distance, terrified, shaking uncontrollably. All his confidence was gone for good. He had to stay weak and quiet. He had to survive. Albus couldn't fail him again. Better defeated than dead – or prisoner again, talking, killing everyone. 

“Please. Let me go now. Please.”  
That was all he could whisper. He hated the sound of his own voice. That man loved him too much. He knew him too well. That's why he was so powerful. He had all of them in the palm of his hands. Because he knew all their fears. 

“Stay here for a while. I'll go out. I'll tell the others you need... some time.”  
He gave him a pat on the head, like he was a little child. He gave him a kiss on the cheek.  
“I love you, my boy. I'm sorry. You had to understand. I fear for your life. I did this for you.”  
Severus didn't respond. He was too afraid to say something. All he wanted was for him to go away. He wouldn't have disobeyed anymore. When Albus finally left the room, he couldn't help but burst in a desperate cry.


	42. Shattered glass

They were in that room for three hours at least and they didn't hear a sound. They took care of Draco instead. Moody allowed him to drink a little firewhisky. He gave some to the other kids as well. They're not too young, he said, not anymore. Molly, who was trying her best not to cry in front of her kids, nodded and went to make some tea – she didn't really wanted it, she just wanted to stay out of the way. The kids needed to feel safe – an adult crying was not safe. Some members of the Order left, asking the others to keep them updated. Moody and Shacklebolt decided to stay for a while. They both had a strange feeling – especially Moody. He trusted Dumbledore as a leader. But on a personal level, he couldn't really rely on him. And he was really worried about Snape, even though he would've died before saying out loud. What happened to him was not fair. He hated him for what he choose to be in the past. But he choose to be a spy as well. He choose to put his life in danger more than once. He could've betrayed them all, but he didn't. He would've helped him sooner if he'd know that he was captive. No man could be left behind. Never. 

Draco couldn't talk anymore. He was too afraid to talk, but apparently Moody's determination gave him some reassurance. Yet he would still cry softly, along with the other kids, who would try to be as supportive as possible. Luckily, no one seemed to be treating him differently after what he confessed. They only wanted to comfort him and make him feel better. They spent some time trying to make Draco speak again, but it was useless. “Just let him be”, said Moody, giving him another little shot of firewhisky – the last one, considering Molly's look. Severus and Albus wouldn't go out the library, so at some point she told the kids to go to sleep. The firewhisky was having its little effect. They didn't really want to, but obeyed anyway. On the first days in Grimmauld place, Draco had slept with Harry and Ron, then Sirius made him change room to give him some privacy – to let him cry alone, to be honest. His room was just facing the one of Harry and Ron's. He followed them all, gave them the goodnight, and pretended to leave. He hid in Severus' room, at the beginning of the corridor, close to the stairs – just behind the door. It took just few minutes of silence before hearing something: Harry going out quietly of his room, just to enter Draco's. So that was it. Maybe Harry just wanted him not to be alone, but that look he was giving him on the stairs gave Sirius few doubts. That was something going on between them. 

Sirius left the room as quietly as possible and went down the stairs again. The Weasleys, Moody, Kingsley, Tonks and Remus were still in the kitchen. 

“Nothing yet?”

They shook their head. Sirius was getting nervous, but there was nothing they could do. Sirius puored himself some firewhisky. 

“I have a bad feeling about this”, he muttered, and Alastor nodded.  
“Me too.”  
“Should we finally talk about what happened? Or we're pretending that everything is still fine?”  
They all turned to Molly. Now that the kids were gone, she was losing it a little – she was crying silently, suppressing her anger, still trying somehow to be reasonable.  
“We're pretending nothing, Molly”, said Alastor “but what happened happened. There's nothing we could do. Not without a good plan, at least.”  
“Alastor. We're here waiting while some teenagers – and I'm refusing to call them kids, but that's what they are – and they are being forced to – I don't care, I know that we must plan something, we can't die, I know, if – if we die it's all lost, but...” she sighed, trying to suppress her urge to cry “What happened to Severus was horrible. We can all agree on that. But he's an adult. He can recover. He can process things. He's already healing, isn't he? But someone like Draco – he could never recover from this. And we're here – sitting and drinking – while other boys of his age, of my son's age” her voice cracked, and Arthur put a hand on her shoulder “are forced to – that's worse than torture itself. He could never recover.”  
“He will recover. It will take time. We all need time. But we'll put an end to that, Molly. I promise.”  
“But what if we can't?”  
“We will.”  
Alastor's firm voice didn't accept any disagreement. He would've saved anyone they were suddenly sure of it. His strength was really reassuring. Sirius wanted to ask him about his plan – did he really have one? But they heard some noises from the library. They rushed outside. Albus was there alone. Sirius tried to reach for the door, but the older wizard stopped him.

“Leave him alone. He need some time.”  
“Is he--”  
“He's not going anywhere. I convinced him.”

That was a good news. Of course. But why Sirius felt a cold shiver running down his spine? He was hearing something now – a soft whine, like someone was... crying in there? Was Severus crying? He tried to reach for the door again, but Albus stopped him again. He was incredibly strong for a man of his age. They stared at each other for a long second. The only audible sound was that muffled weeping. 

“Let me go to him.”  
“I told you. He needs time.”  
“What did you do to him?”  
“I convinced him not to go.”  
“How?”  
“I just did. He can't leave again. He did marvelously the last time, but luck can't last forever. And now he's just too sick to drink all that Polijuice Potion again.”  
“That wasn't luck – he's just good in what he does, Albus” he tried to go past Albus again, unsuccessfully “He was always good in what he did for you, did he?”  
“Indeed.”  
“And that's how you repay him? Leaving him alone while crying? I'm hearing him - let me go, goddamnit.”  
“Leave him some space, Sirius. It wasn't easy.”

They stood in silence again, but the tension was palpable. Sirius could feel the others behind him – they were on his side, he knew that. No one would talk. That muffled crying was all he could hear. He was getting anxious every second he wasn't seeing Severus. The crying was almost gone now – just some soft noise, like he was trying not to be heard. Sirius pictured Severus there, alone, trying not to be heard – he was so damn proud. Was he hearing him, too? That conversation?

“Just leave, Albus. He's not going anywhere, right? That's what you wanted. So leave. You won. Go. Let us take care of him. Just like we did since the beginning of this story.”  
“Sirius...”  
“First you were too busy finding a replacement to him – while he was – I can't even say that – you DISGUST me, Albus – while he was being tortured there, alone, for weeks – you were just finding his fucking replacement, then you left him alone in that fucking cell!”  
“Listen to m-”  
“Those poor kids had to take care of him because THEY understood what he did for them and you weren't there! You weren't there, Albus! You were just giving orders, taking him for granted and telling him what to do – even now – you just give orders! You say you love him, but then you treat him this way – how can you even ask him to do anything for you? Now he has to stay here, quiet, because you decided that's better for him? ”  
“It is better for him.”  
“You can't say that! You have no right on him anymore! You used him! You used him and left him when he most needed you!”  
“This is not the place nor the time--”  
“It's never the time for you! Now you said you wanted to talk to him, and he's crying there, alone! And you don't even let me go see him! Can't you see how far you've gone, Albus? Just--”

But a loud noise of shattered glass interrupted him. It came from the library. He finally managed to push aside Albus and run into the room, followed by the others. He found Severus on the ground, kneeling by the broken window, crying softly, violently trying to cut his wrist with a piece of glass.


	43. He just wanted to die

It was all so fast, none of them could think – there was blood everywhere – Sirius screamed his name, he felt like it was his own blood – they ran to him, trying to stop him, but he kept hurting himself – it took three of them to physically stop him, but his left wrist, the one with the dark mark, was deeply cut and would lose a lot of blood; the right hand was still holding the glass, and his fingers were all cut, losing blood, he wouldn't let go of the glass, they couldn't ease that grip – Sirius would cry his name out loud, trying to get his attention, begging him to stop, to leave the glass, please, look at me, please, Severus – but Severus would just be there, his whole body stiff like he was having another cruciatus cramp, but that was not the case, he was desperate, terrified, he would beg them to let him go, just to let him go, he didn't want to live anymore, he didn't want to feel anymore, he just wanted to die, he couldn't bear all that, not again, and he would keep screaming all that without looking at anyone, it was like he was alone screaming at nothing while his blood – oh gods, so much blood – would drip all over the carpet. 

Albus would just look at them from the door in a state of absolute shock. How could he not expect something like that? Sirius wanted to punch him, but couldn't – the man he loved was suffering, and he didn't know what to do. He was panicking more than Albus – how could Albus be so blind? How could he leave him alone? He didn't know, he didn't see his state, his recovery, he knew nothing, he didn't understand that Severus was not the same person – Sirius had all those thoughts all together, he didn't know what to do, and Severus would just keep screaming and screaming, and something upstairs – the kids, they heard, they were running, calling, they didn't know – Draco, he had to stop Draco, the kids, they couldn't see him like this – yet Sirius would be still standing there, horrified, overwhelmed, crying in horror. 

Luckily, the others seemed more focused. Remus tended to his wounds while Tonks and Arthur would go upstairs to stop the kids and take some replenishment potion – Severus was losing too much blood, it was everywhere, everywhere, how could a body so thing have so much blood in it? – and the cut was so deep, he stabbed his wrist with that piece of glass, he was losing too much but didn't seem to mind, he just kept begging them – please, let me go, let me die, please – and Kingsley would hold him to stop him, and Molly would try to talk to him, asking him to let go of that glass, please, but he would hold it like it was a ball, so tightly, cutting himself, still giving himself pain – at least pain, if he couldn't get death – and Sirius could hear the kids screaming by the stairs, stopped by Arthur, Draco desperately calling for him, and all of sudden it was too much. Alastor took his wand, pointed it at Severus, and shouted a stupefying charm. Severus collapsed in the arms of Kingsley and silence fell on the room. He finally let go of the piece of glass, which fell on the carpet with a soft thump, on all that blood. 

“I'm sorry” said Alastor, panting “I didn't know what to do.” 

* 

Sirius spent the next hours floating in a nightmare. He just didn't know what to do, he couldn't stay there, he was no use standing there in the room, so they sent him to the kids. They were freaking out. They saw him anyway, pushed Arthur away and ran and saw him. Now they were all in Harry and Ron's room – or maybe just Ron's room, at that point, Sirius thought – sitting on the beds, crying their heart out. They kept asking what happened and Sirius didn't know what to say. How could he answer that question? What could he say? That their Headmaster, the man they all trusted dearly, tortured him to scare him enough to stay in Grimmauld place? That he finally broke down? That he tried to kill himself and maybe he would've tried again? That Dumbledore succeeded in what the Death Eaters failed? That Voldemort, whenever he was, was probably laughing at them? No, he couldn't say that. So he kept being silent, and wept softly, unable to react. The vision of that defeated Severus was too much for him. He wasn't there. He should've known better. He couldn't face Dumbledore alone, Death Eaters again – alone – he was trying to be strong, too strong, he'd always tried to – but he was like a rubber band about to snap, and he should've protected him, but he didn't – he had too much faith in him, and loved him too much to tell him that he couldn't go out again. He didn't want to treat him like a “damsel in distress” – as he said – but maybe he should have. Of course, he couldn't imagine that Dumbledore could be so desperate to keep him in the house to torture him mentally – making him relive all those memory, more than three weeks in three hours – what was he thinking? Of course, he relived those memories too – but that was not the same. Not his body, not his mind. Not his broken dignity. 

Poppy was there, trying to save Severus again. But Sirius was worried that it was just too late. Because Severus had given up. As he said: he just wanted to die.


	44. A wrong father

Severus was in his bed, freshly healed again. His wrist and hand were bandaged, so they couldn't see the real damage, but they all guessed it didn't look good at all. His face was white and grey. He looked like a statue made of marble. He looked tremendously ill. Optimism, at that point, had failed everyone. Poppy had rushed from the school in great secret just for them, something she couldn't always do – and she worked hard on Severus, complaining about everything and everybody in that room while doing so, ordering everyone what to do. She couldn't believe Severus just tried to end his own life, that Albus would abuse him in a discussion just to prove a point, and, most of all, that he was left alone. They knew that the situation was bad, she warned them, he couldn't be confronted with too emotion and, most of all – and she told that again directly to Albus – he shouldn't have been left alone. He lost a tremendous amount of blood, and his already unstable condition became desperate again. Not like he was after being rescued, but still. She had to cast a spell on him, to avoid waking him up. It was like an induced coma. He had to be. For a while. He couldn't recover in those mental conditions. 

After Poppy left, there was nothing they could do. Alastor and Albus were there with him. Albus was sitting next to him, hands on his bandaged hand and tears in his eyes. Alastor was standing close to him, looking at him. He didn't even seem the same person. He looked old, tired, devastated. How could he care so much, and behave so badly? How couldn't he see how his action would affect others? It was like he was so caught up in being at war, he wanted to save all of them knowing he couldn't. 

He made a crucial mistake: he relied too much on Severus' strength. First, he relied on it too much during the mission, making him do everything for them. Then he relied on his strength while being a prisoner, and he relied on it so much that he wouldn't save him immediately, so he wouldn't risk the others' lives. Now, he relied on his strength in a discussion. He had to snap at some point. Obviously, he didn't expect him to break. He wanted to tell him that he had been so wrong about that poor lad, but couldn't. He was obviously hating himself enough. He knew that Severus wouldn't have waken up anytime soon, but him being with Albus didn't feel right anyway. Albus didn't take care of him. He didn't know all the struggles. The kids did. Poor Draco probably wanted to be with him as well. 

And Sirius – they never really talked, but there was something between them. It was so obvious. His scream of pure pain while Severus was bleeding told him lot of things. There was something. Love, maybe? He couldn't tell. It was none of his business. But he had to be in agony. Probably Poppy already told him everything – if not her, Remus did. Alastor was sure that, if Sirius hadn't rushed in the room, was only because he was there, and he trusted Severus with him. Not alone with Albus – not anymore, never again.

“I'm going to call Sirius.”   
“No, please. Not yet.”  
“What?”   
“I can't stand him accusing me all the time. He'll make me leave. I would like to stay here for a bit longer. Just a few minutes.”  
“Accusing? You tortured him. You made him remember all those memories – you made him –”   
“I told you, I lived them too.”  
“He was recovering. The whole point of not letting him go was based on the fact that he's still recovering. And Poppy stated pretty much clear that the trauma he suffered – and you know pretty well, what kind of trauma he suffered, Albus, since you lived those memories as well – had to be treated with some... delicacy. You almost killed him.”

Albus looked at him, sudden tears in his eyes. 

“I thought he was better.”  
“You should've asked.”  
“I should have. I thought – he was just like before. I thought – I don't know – but I couldn't let him go out again. You agree with me on that, do you?”  
“Yes. I had a plan that would've implied him staying here, giving me his memories, tell me where he kept at least one of his escape bags, and I could've done his job by myself. But now it's useless, since he won't wake up any sooner.” 

Albus sighed, and looked at Severus again. All of a sudden he seemed really tired. 

“It seems like I always do the wrong thing to him. It's beyond myself. He's like a son to me. Yet, whatever I do, it's wrong. It's always been like this, since Hogwarts – I couldn't save anyone, I know. I couldn't be fair to anyone. Yet, every time, the wronged one was him. I never let him win one.”   
“Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?”   
“I know you won't. I don't deserve your pity. And honestly, in this moment I don't care. The only important thing here is the mission. That's the only thing that matters to me.”   
“Yet you were able to jeopardize it. How are we expected to follow a plan without him?”   
“He'll get better. I have faith in him. He's better than me. Stronger than me. He'll recover. I'm sure of it.”  
“Me too. But it will take time, and we don't have much of it. People are missing, Albus.”   
“I know. But I don't know what to do.”   
“The only thing we can do now is talk. The others know what you've done. You have to talk like you did to me. We have to trust each other. That's our only strong point. Death Eaters don't trust each others. They would sell each other, betray each other, at the first convenience. We don't. But we have to remember that.” 

Albus nodded, big tears falling off of his eyes. 

“Call him.”


	45. The plan

They had a long talk. Quiet, because the presence of Severus made them whisper. Like he could wake up at any moment. But he won't, thought Sirius bitterly, he won't. He seemed so little and fragile, all of a sudden. Just like some months ago. Just like they just found him. Only... less messy. Less blood. But so little. Like he could easily break. Sirius' heart jumped at the thought. All the progress they made was just gone. Poppy said that the spell would be effective for a while, along with the potions. Then they should've check on him, and eventually re-cast the spell to keep him in his deep sleep. She didn't want him to be in his induced sleep for too long. It was dangerous. She didn't want him to sleep forever. But they had to be careful not to have him too awake, either. 

Sirius was called. He didn't want to talk to Albus, but yes, he wanted to see Severus. He sat on the bed next to him. Kissed him on the cheek. Told in his ear that he loved him. Felt tears in his eyes, tried to take them back. He didn't want to cry in front of Albus. He didn't want to. But at that point, they had to talk. He couldn't believe nor trust him anymore. And the sake of the mission was at risk. They had to talk because he wanted to trust him. Despite everything that happened, he really wanted to trust that man. It was the only way they could survive as a group. But he didn't want to talk to him alone. So they decided to talk with the others as well, and they moved in the kitchen. 

The kids were there, too. They had to witness all, said Sirius, and the other adults agreed. At that point, it was crucial. They were young, but they had to know. Molly was the only one not convinced at all, but eventually she had to give up to the idea. It was not an official reunion of the Order. It was not something that could compromise the mission. It was something that they needed to know. The situation was too desperate, and they had to understand. They couldn't speculate anymore. They had to know what was going on. Plus, they would've found out everything anyway. So they told them everything – that Severus tried to take away his own life, that it was because he relived all his memories at once, that Albus did that so that he wouldn't leave Grimmauld Place, and that they didn't know how long his recovery would have taken. If he's able to recover at all, thought Sirius bitterly, but he kept that thought to himself. 

The kids cried. Albus apologized again. He didn't know – he couldn't have possibly known. He made a mistake. He was wrong. He shouldn't have done that. Alastor couldn't help but notice that he seemed again the old Albus – strong and invincible like he always was in their eyes. He showed his weakness in front of him because he knew him better than anybody else in that room – but he was still a leader, and he was a leader even in his mistakes. So he accepted those screaming and crying from the kids. The recrimination and the accusations. Eventually they faded off. And Alastor just knew that he was taking back control of the group. Plus, now that Severus was virtually gone, there was no one constantly reminding him of his mistakes. 

Severus was the incarnation of his mistakes and he couldn't talk anymore. He couldn't wake up. For a while. Like a coma. Sorta of. Something reversible. But at the moment, it really looked like it wasn't. Alastor looked at him. The kids slowly accepting what happened. Sirius defeated in a corner. A brief suspect came to him – was that Albus' plan all along? Did he intentionally broke Severus for the greater good? If he did, he didn't do it lightheartedly. In that room, just few minutes before, he showed nothing but remorse. Yet Dumbledore was implacable, just like Voldemort. He had to fight for his cause, just like Voldemort. And he had to take horrible decisions, just like Voldemort. Maybe Voldemort was happy to take those horrible decisions, but at that point that was the only difference. 

Yet Alastor said nothing. Because Voldemort couldn't win. And Albus didn't want power, glory, or take over the wizarding world. He just wanted to defeat him. Which was their objective as a group. And they had to act together. They had to trust each other. They would all agree with him. He knew that. Except Sirius, maybe.

All Sirius wanted was to crawl on the bed, curl up next to Severus and fall asleep next to him. He wanted his scent in his nose, drown in it and die next to him. But he couldn't. He had to be strong for him too. That time, he couldn't afford a breakdown. Severus was in the house with him, he couldn't go anywhere anymore, he couldn't worry about him being alone in the streets. Just like you wanted, Albus, he thought. He couldn't go anywhere anymore. 

Albus' biggest mistake so far: he wanted to save anyone, including Severus, but he managed to ruin everything. And they had to find a solution together. They had to think. They would've done it anyway. They had to fight and survive. They had to come up with a new plan. The war was still on. They had to do something. Alastor's plan was good, but they couldn't follow that at the moment. They needed Severus. Luckily (sorta of), Albus had an idea to follow Alastor's plan without waking up their former spy. 

“Maybe we could use his memories anyway. We could take them from his head, connect with his mind... talk to him while he's asleep and he can't hurt myself. There's a spell for it. A sorta of Legilimens, but allows the person who performs it to enter the mind of another person. It's not easy, and that's a powerful spell. But Severus' mind defenses are totally down right now. We shouldn't have a problem.”  
“So he can't even have peace in his sleep” said Sirius “we have to spoil his own mind.”  
“Sounds like a possession”, said Alastor. Albus shook his head.  
“It's not. He wouldn't remember a thing. And it would be totally harmless. It's a powerful spell, but we could perform it, take all the informations we need, and leave Severus to his much needed recovery.”  
“He was recovering just fine before you --”  
“That's not the moment, Sirius...”  
“You're not entering his mind, that's for sure. I won't allow this. I'll go.”  
“As I said... it's a powerful spell, Sirius...”  
“I'll manage. I'll go. You'll stay away from his mind. That's it. You're not allowed to mess with his mind ever again.”  
“Sirius...”  
“That's not debatable!”  
“He has all the right, Albus. I'm with Sirius.”  
“We should vote.”  
“We should plan another meeting and involve the others. It's not fair. They're not all here.”

The kids were still in the kitchen, silently watching the adults debating over their Potions Master's memories. They couldn't do anything but process what they were listening to. They knew only one thing for sure: they couldn't go back to school.


	46. Confess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting longer than I expected, but I'm just in love with this story.  
> Whoever is still reading this... you're my love, my light, you're wonderful. And I'm grateful from the bottom of my heart.  
> Next chapters will be wonderfully magic.  
> Love you all.  
> Thank you.

They had another meeting few days later.  
Severus was still sleeping. He seemed almost transparent, unbearably little in that bed. Poppy was trying her best, but to her it was obvious that Severus had given up. It was a matter of time. They had to hurry and get at least what they could take from his mind before it was too late. 

Sirius spent those days in a silent limbo. He felt like he wasn't alive either. He let Draco stay close to Severus most of the time – he couldn't refuse the poor boy to stay next to the only familiar person he had left in the world. Harry left him there, and spent most of the time with Sirius instead. They never talked about it, but they knew all about they lovers, didn't they? Harry and the kids would just be close to Sirius, just like they were to Severus. They could feel his pain, they would try to ease it. Nothing to ask, nothing to explain. Sirius wished they would be there with him at the meeting. He was there with Remus and Tonks, feeling already dead inside. He couldn't even drink anymore. Nothing could ease his pain. He had something wonderful. Something frail and precious. Something that he couldn't protect. Something Albus crashed and destroyed completely. 

He wanted to make it end. End it all. Make sure that Harry was safe. All the kids. His friends. He wanted to see the end of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And then go wherever Severus was and stay with him. The idea that he was close to death was not destroying him like the thought that he was alone in his own mind. He promised him to be with him forever and protect him, and he couldn't fulfill his promise. He left him alone with Albus. He left him alone with himself. He shouldn't have done that.

His only comfort was that the others agreed that it was completely Albus' fault. It was a dim comfort, but it was all he had. Albus apologized and everybody just accepted it. But they all agreed that Albus couldn't go in his mind. Ever again. They only had to choose someone to enter his mind, take all the memories they needed to follow Alastor's plan, and put them in a Pensieve for them to analyze. To know their names and faces. To go looking for them. To find out where the other kids were. To make a plan to free them all. Face Voldemort. Fight him. Make it all end, once and for all.  
Maybe Alastor or Kingsley were the right choice for their mission. They were strong enough, and deeply respected Severus. Despite them being the most logical option, Sirius kept saying that he had to do it. 

“I can't stand the idea that others could see all his memories while he can't defend himself. It's already bad that we could see his memories of the imprisonment. It's not fair.”  
“And you should go, because...”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I'm just wondering why do you think that Severus would agree to have you in his mind more than me, Sirius.”

They all fell silent. Sirius froze. They were all looking at him. Albus didn't know. Of course he maybe guessed something – but he didn't know. Sirius never said it. Admitted it. Luckily, Remus – gods bless him – decided to intervene:

“We became pretty close during his recovery, Albus. He trusts us. Sirius could be an excellent choice.”  
“Then why don't you go? Or Tonks?”  
“I'm too weak to do that. Sirius can do this better than me.”  
“Same here.” 

Albus looked at them for a long second, before glancing back at Sirius.

“Sirius, you're strong. But you know better than me that Alastor and Kingsley would be better than you.”  
“I have to go there.”  
“Well, Sirius –”  
“I love him. And he loves me. Is that what you wanted to hear? You wanted me to say this in front of anyone?” He looked at the others. Some of them seemed shocked at the news – well, for some of them it was really a surprise, but he couldn't bother to explain more. He didn't want to say that, yet he did. It was not a problem anymore, nor a mystery. Tonks had already tears in her eyes. He glanced back at Albus. “It must be me. That's it. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”  
“Yes.” 

*

He spent a couple of days for training with the new spell. Alastor helped him. He would keep most of his mind closed, but he would let Sirius in just to practice. Find a memory, witness it, go out of the mind, put that memory in the Pensieve. It was not difficult, but he kept finding that spell a little disturbing. He would spent hours exploring Alastor's mind just to find out that he actually spent just one minute in it. Time was different in a mind. But he had to be careful. He wanted to go immediately to Severus, but the others convinced him not to. He had to familiarize with the spell first.

“You could get lost in his mind, and I'd really like to avoid that.”  
“It won't happen.”  
“Sirius. This spell is really dangerous. You could lose yourself.”  
“No, Alastor, really. I'm fine. I'm doing this because... it's not fair. He's alone. He's defenseless. Letting someone in his mind... it's just not right.”  
“I know. I agree on that too. But you could want to... stay there. With him. Couldn't you?”  
“I could, but I won't. We have a plan to follow.”

It was Sirius' dream. To get lost into Severus' mind, stay with him forever. But that was not the time. Take the memories he needed. Go out. Put them into the Pensieve. Fight. Win the war. Avenge Severus. Then, only then, he could get lost in his lover's mind forever. If he was still alive. If he'd die, Sirius would've done everything anyway. Then die as well. Leave everything to Harry. He would've been fine. He had Draco. A whole new life ahead of him. Sirius was already old and sad. And he was already gone. He was with Severus. Always.


	47. Inside Severus' head

The day he had to go, Harry would hug him like he never did in his whole life. Like he wanted to impress his frame on his body.

“I'll be back, you know.”  
“I know”, he whispered, not easing his grip. Harry was the hardest to leave behind. They would wait for him outside Severus' room. Only Alastor was allowed inside. And a Pensieve they brought in for his mission. It was easy. Go in. Take memories. Go back. It was a matter of minutes, but it would be hours in Severus' mind.

“Don't get lost. I don't want to go there and take you back.”  
“I'll manage.”  
“Sirius, you can still... I can still do it.”  
“No” Sirius shook his head, lying on the bed next to Severus' pale body “I have to. I'll be strong. I'll be back. Don't worry.”

He was afraid and excited at the same time. He would have seen Severus again! But how? Would he recognize him? Would Sirius be able to convince him to come back? Would his love be enough? He didn't know. He had a mission inside his mission – go in, take memories. Find him. Tell him he loved him. Go back. Put memory in Pensieve. Win war. Die with him.

Easy.

He took a deep breath. And, with a swirl of his wand, he was inside.

*

Dark. The first few minutes he walked in darkness. Then something – a door? Closed? No – slightly open. Someone would cry inside, so softly, just before Severus – no, that was not Severus' voice. He peeked in. A child with a hollow face and black hair would cry in a corner. A man with the same hair, so much like Severus, but taller and thicker, would adjust his belt in his pants.

_Father would beat me with that._

Sirius left the room.

*

Another door. He peeked in.

Hogwarts.  
Severus was a tall and thin teenager. Grim and lonely.  
Sirius would call him names to make the others laugh.

_He was always like this._

Before Sirius could die in his own shame, the scene changed. Sirius tried desperately to cling on his own mind not to get lost, and closed his eyes. He counted to ten. When he opened his eyes again, he was in a room – the library – and Severus had a black eye and tears in his eyes, because Sirius gave him a punch. He responded to that – Sirius deeply regretted that punch – yet he would hide in the library to cry.  
_I always cried alone._

Someone would approach him. A young, beautiful Malfoy. Kind words.

_Those were so rare._

Sirius already knew. Lucius maybe got closer to Severus because he was talented, but they really became friends. The poor bastard.

_He's dead because of me._

Sirius leaves them talking and goes out of the library, in the darkness again.

*

Severus is – those are Death Eaters – all those masks, he can't see – damn, not even a face – they are torturing someone. He hears screams and pleas. He sees Severus going away to throw up.

_I could never do that. I could never enjoy that. I was a potionist. That was my job._

Sirius watches Lucius as he approaches him, trying to comfort him.

_He was my only friend._

*

Voldemort is dead. Severus is pale, sitting on a couch in Dumbledore's studio, Albus close to him. There's fire lit. A table with firewhisky. Severus looks like he just cried. And Sirius just knows – Lily is dead. They are talking – Albus just saved him from the Aurors. He avoided him Azkaban.

Sirius watches Albus put a hand on Severus' knee. Going up. Talking of something – ease the pain.  
He can't believe what he's watching.

_I couldn't even kiss him. I don't know if he loved me or just wanted me._

Sirius can't look away. Albus is trying to – Severus looks like in complete shock – he tries to touch him, Severus moves his hand away – Albus takes that hand to – oh, no...

_It's ok. I didn't watch. He didn't rape me. My clothes are still on. He just wanted to – he just used my hand._

Sirius can't look away.

_I can't either._

He waits until Albus finishes.

_Sometimes I wonder if he wanted more from me. If that's why he left me there. Because I refused to. Because I never wanted to. Because I'd always look away._

Did it happen other times?

_Just leave, please._

*

He's elsewhere. Bad memory after bad memory. Nothing on Death Eaters or their faces. Not a name. A place. Nothing. Just sadness. No one loves him. And he becomes bitter. Uglier. Meaner. If he can't have love, he'll never give it away. He'll never ask for it. He never asks.

*

He finally finds him on a lake. He's with Lily. He watches them for a while in an awe. Severus is just the same, he's not young, just – his old hair, his old self, his clothes. That's him. The old him. And Lily is just as he remembers – the old days of school, the uniform, the way the sun seems to linger on her hair.

He looks at them for a while. They just talk. They seem so happy – he's almost sad he had to interrupt them. Does he have to, though? He can just look at them – the two people he loved the most.

When he thinks that, they turn and look at him. Lily seems happy, but says nothing. She just leaves. Sirius goes to Severus. He's still sitting by the lake, so he sits next to him, where Lily was.

“I loved her.”  
“Me too.”  
“I loved you too.”  
“Me too.”  
“I don't know how it's possible.”  
“Me neither.”  
“Love can just be... everywhere. In the air. In the sky. I was... attracted by you. My whole life. And it turned into love. But I loved her too. I thought that I'd love her more than I loved you. But things turned out differently.”

They sat together by the lake. Lily was long gone. It felt like ages. The sky was bright blue and orange and gold. It would change color at any minute.

“I'm happier I'm with you.”  
“Me too.”  
“But I wished she was still alive.”  
“Me too.”

They stood silent for a while. Someone was singing something far, far away – a woman. A long lament, a cry that turned into beautiful singing and cry again. Something melancholic, poetic, sad, creepy, scary, a mistery unfolded. His mother, Sirius guessed.

“I wonder what they'd say. If they knew, I mean. About us.”  
“Lily would be happy, I guess. And James would tell me that I could have better than you.”  
“Lily would tell me the same, you know.”

They both chuckled.

“Why are you here, Sirius? I don't think you're here to keep me some company.”  
“I... I would. You know.”  
“I know. But yours is a complicated spell, an ancient spell. So I highly doubt you're here because you just knew that. Someone taught you. And for a reason. Am I right?”

Sirius sighed.

“Alastor. He has a plan. Do what you did... to find the other kids. Become the new spy, in a way. But he needs to know what you know.”  
“I suspected that. It's a good plan. Really good. You could actually make it. Alastor is the right man for it.”  
“He is.”  
“Why didn't he came?”  
“Because I told him not to. That I would have done that.”  
“And he accepted.”  
“He did. He respects you a lot, you know.”  
“And the others, they just accepted?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“I told them I love you.”

Severus laughed. For the first time in his life, Sirius heard his real laugh. The sky began to sparkle and the lake turned into gold. It had to be the funniest thing Severus had ever heard, because he didn't stop soon.

“Oh, god. Oh god. Please tell me what Albus' face was like.”  
“He was... hell, he seemed like a statue. But I guess he already knew, because he almost forced me into telling me that in front of everyone.”  
“Well, I guess he had some clue”, he said, still chuckling “Oh, that's amazing. I wish I was there.”

That last sentence silenced them both. He wasn't there. He was in a coma. Because he was dying.

“I miss you. I... I just miss what we had. You... you were recovering so well...”  
“I know. I'm sorry.”  
“It's not your fault.”

Severus kept looking at the lake, which just now had become Hogwart's lake. They were in school again.

“I'm sorry. I'm just... I don't know. Something broke inside me. It was like a rupture. I couldn't control it.”  
“It's not your fault. It's Albus' fault.”  
“I should've been stronger.”  
“You've been strong enough. Your whole life.”

Severus sighs.

“I'm so stupid. I made a mistake.”  
“What?”  
“I made a mistake. I wanted to fake it. I wanted to play a scene. The suicide scene. But when I did it something inside me just thought to really do that and I couldn't stop it. I didn't know – it was like i didn't know how to stop myself. It was like it wasn't me.”  
“Why you'd fake it?”  
“So that Albus would leave. And I could escape and do everything again, like last time.”  
“And die?”  
“I'm already dead, Sirius. Let's face it: I'll never get better. I'll never recover.”  
“You will. You were. It was just... a moment.”  
“No.”  
“You'll get better.”  
“I'll always be sick, traumatized. I'll always be a burden.”  
“Not to me. Please, come back.”

Severus seemed to think about it. Suddenly, the sky became dark. And he became the Severus of the last months, ill and sick, still with the black suit which now would fit him like a drape on a scarecrow.

“...I... don't know.”  
“You can come back. For real. And be together again. And I swear – I'll never leave you alone again. Never.”

Severus seemed to think about it, just for a second. But then, he shook his head.

“I'd like to stay here. A little while. I can control my memories sometimes. Think of the happy ones. Talk to my mum. To Lily. Not in... a strange way. Don't think about that. Just talk. Like we were still friends.”  
“I have to go. I can't stay. I would love to, but...”  
“You have to fight. I know you can't stay here. But I will. I can't go back. I can't do it anymore.”

Severus began to cry and, to Sirius' wonder, rain falls from the sky.

“I'm a coward. I'm useless. I can't go back. I can't.”  
“You're not--”  
“Take my memories and go.”  
“But I--”  
“Please go. Leave. At least you. You do that. Please. Because I can't - I have to stay here. I can't move from my own mind. And sometimes it's all here and I can live everything. Everything. And I can't change it. Please, just... go. My memories...” suddenly he reached for Sirius' head, and kissed it.

Sirius knew – he was giving him his memories. He tried to hug him. Severus didn't move, but didn't respond either. Just his lips were still on Sirius' forehead. Rain would fall on them. Then Severus would abruptly stand, pushing him away. He was the old Severus again. Mean. The one that didn't want to love in order not to get hurt. It was just a scene – to make him leave.

“You have to go. You don't have much time. They'll get lost. Go.”

Sirius nodded. He just had to turn around to go away from the storm on the lake that was hitting both of them. But he still had to say something.

“Stay here. I'll come back.”  
“Don't.”  
“No. I love you. I want to stay with you. In this life or the other. Do you understand?”

The rain stopped. They just stood there in the dark, soaking wet. Severus was looking at him.

“We'll be together. I'm not leaving you. Do you understand?”  
“… yes.”  
“It will feel like months. Years. Outside it will be just a matter of days. I'll come back. I promise. Please. Don't get lost in your old mind. Please.”

Severus looked at him.

“I love you.”

There was nothing else to say. Sirius had this feeling – he was not welcome anymore. He had to go. He turned. But in the last moment he could hear Severus' voice whispering

_I love you too._


	48. Lucius

Severus was left alone in his own mind. He wanted Lily back and talk to her, or his mother – but he wanted to be alone, really. He went back to Hogwarts – his memory of Hogwarts – and tried to go back into his room.

It wasn't easy. The corridors were full of memories – all his years combined together, both as student and professor, like overlying frames of a bad and sad movie. He could live them all or just ignore them – most of the times the memories would force him to watch. That time, he needed to be alone. So he would just go. Sirius was everywhere, being mean to him – young, beautiful, cruel – he didn't want to see that anymore. The Sirius in love with him, the one looking for him, the one that told him that they would be together – that was the Sirius he wanted to be with.

He wondered if somehow he could really follow Sirius despite his conditions – he knew that those altered states of mind could bring people elsewhere – in other people's mind, dreams – sometimes talk to dead people, too. Maybe he could go in Sirius' dreams and see him there. He knew so little. Sometimes, people in coma could see different things. Be elsewhere. He had to try. He had to wait for him – was he risking to get lost? He didn't want to break his promise. 

He went in the memory of his own room and decided to give it a try. Something little, to make sure not to get lost. He had to think to Sirius. To call him. He had to try to reach out to him. First, he tried to get to his last memory of Sirius – could he go...? – no, too painful, he had to try something else, something far – his first kiss with Sirius?... snow, white, moist, his warm body, his hands... – go back, go back, don't lean into it, don't get lost – his mind was so fragile, he had to be careful. 

He tried and tried. He called Sirius in all his memories. The way he cared for him. All he did for him. That time he opened the door broken and lost, just to see his unfamiliar face under Polijuice – and his reaction when he heard his voice again. He loved him so much. So much. Yet he was so afraid – he wanted a world made just for them, only them in the whole world.

He wanted to see something new.   
He wanted to talk to him.   
He almost hoped that Sirius would get incredibly drunk, so that his state could make him closer to Severus and see him again. Maybe that was the problem: they both had to be in a different mental state. Being unstable. He tried again and again. It was a way to spend the time anyway – seeing him was better than seeing his sad memories, after all.

Then, finally, something he couldn't recognize – Sirius? A memory lost?  
It was not him, no. Nor his memory. 

A vivid dream... was it? Something was wrong – that was not a memory at all. Not even a dream. He didn't know how to tell the difference, but he just knew. That was not even a dream. It seemed almost real, too real to be a dream – was he... was he in the real world? He wasn't awake, it was all blurred. A man would be on a bed, crying. People around him laughing. Keeping him down. Someone was – no – his hand inside – his fist – of course, they did it to him too – but this was different, somehow, and that man...

Lucius.   
It was Lucius.

Why was he looking at that? How could he go there?   
The answer came immediately. He knew why.   
Lucius was thinking of him. Regretting not moving faster to save him. He was remembering that time they did that to him. He was calling him with his mind – he could call only him, because he would refuse to think of Draco and Narcissa while they would rape him – not only that – they were milking his precious pureblood seed. 

Severus was there, but he was not.   
He was there because Lucius was thinking of him. And was in an altered state too – what drug were they using on him? He couldn't tell – but Lucius would be there, crying, unable to move – and Severus could tell that he was seeing him too. 

They were looking at each other.   
And at that moment they knew that the other was alive. 

It was only a moment. The room began to fade again, those laughs so distant again – no no no – Severus tried to reach for him – Lucius I'll save you, I'll come, I'll save you, Draco is safe too, I'm not dead, Lucius I'm sorry, your son is fine, Lucius everything is fine, I love you, you're my best friend, I love you, Lucius I'll be there, Lucius stay strong, Lucius I'll come, Lucius I'll save you, we'll be fine, we're still friends, I didn't know, Lucius – his mind again, his dungeon again.

 

* 

He opened his eyes. His eyelids were heavier than ever. He fought. He had to wake up. He had to go back. The ceiling. He knew that ceiling. Grimmauld Place. No St. Mungo, no Hogwarts, no Spinner's End – he was in Grimmauld Place, it was real, he was in Sirius' house, he loved him, 

He knew it could be all different. He didn't know how much time he had spent sleeping. Maybe he was old. Maybe Sirius was old too. Maybe he was dead. Maybe they were all dead. So much time – but he wasn't dead yet, was he? He still had a chance. He could make a difference once again. 

He wanted to die and forget he ever existed, but it wasn't his fight anymore. He wasn't alone. He had some love now. Some people loved him. But he had to suffer to get there. To make people realize how much he cared about them. Only one person loved him when he had nothing at all. Only one would be close to him when he was poor and hated by everyone else. Lucius was there alone, tortured and traumatized. He couldn't leave him. No one could save him but Severus. 

He gasped, fought to breathe normally. He tried to scream – he had to make noise, draw attention. Outside the window he saw only darkness – night, sleep – why Sirius was not there with him? Why was he alone? Sirius – where was he? He panicked. He looked at his own hands – no, they didn't look older. He was afraid he was just an old man in a bed. Those were still his hands. But Sirius was not there – maybe in the bathroom? Drinking himself away in the living room? And what about the others?

He took a deep breath and looked around him – nothing, no one, just some bottles, potions on the bedside table. He tried to – so, so difficult – to raise his arm and take those bottles. Make them go down. One hit the carpet with a soft thud. The second one was heavier, but didn't make much noise. He then tried to make the bedside table fall – it was little, after all. He felt dizzy, exhausted – he tried to think to Lucius with him – all the times he consoled him, the money he gave him, all the time he helped him out, that one time he asked him to be Draco's godfather – he pushed with one arm, the only thing he could move, he pushed, and pushed, and – yes! – the table fell. It made noise. 

Some terrible seconds came, where he heard nothing. Maybe no one was at home? Maybe they were all dead and he was alone? 

Then something – a shush, some steps, and he finally heard some voices – familiar voices, yes, Arthur, Molly, Remus! – he could hear Remus! It was all right, then, it was all right, he could tell them – he had to – where was Sirius? 

He struggled. He had to stay awake. He had to tell Draco. Tell them all.  
He knew. It was real.

Lucius was still alive.


	49. War

“It's ok. It's ok. Just – Kingsley, help me”

Molly, Remus, Tonks and Kingsley were there, he could hear someone out of the door – Arthur and, maybe, Alastor? – they helped him sit. He felt awful, like his own body wasn't his – unable to move, trapped – he tried to calm himself, it was all right, he was under the effect of some potion, it wasn't his actual condition, he had nothing to fear, he could get better, they would help him – they had to – Sirius, where was he? 

The other were speaking, shushing, helping him, whispering, he could hear them all: 

“How could we forget the potion?”  
“We didn't, he woke up by himself.”  
“You can tell he's struggling to stay awake.”  
“How could he wake up?”  
“I don't know. We need to wait for it to wear it off.”  
“Poppy said --”  
“He's awake. And his body has recovered a little. I'm tired of giving him all those things – let's keep him awake for a while. It's not fair. He doesn't deserve this.”  
“We must tell him -”  
“Not now, Tonks”  
“You're scaring him.”  
“Do you think he can hear us?”  
“He can. I'm sure. Shut up.”  
“Severus, it's ok – do you know where you are?”

He couldn't speak, so he tried to nod. Kingsley, whom helped him sit and was closer to him, smiled: 

“See? He can hear us. He's aware. We're not giving him that potion again.”  
“But --”  
“Molly, I know you mean well, but there must be a reason he's awake. It means he's better.”

Severus sighed with relief. He couldn't speak, but he was glad Kingsley was on his side. He wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. He tried to look around, but his vision was blurred – he wondered when the potions would wear off. 

“Severus, don't worry. You're still under the effect of the potion Poppy gave us. We were giving it to you to let you recover. You were... not fine. Do you remember what happened?”

He nodded.

“Can you speak?”

He shook his head, slowly. He felt sick. Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him.

“It's ok – it will wear off in no time. You'll feel better. It's ok.”

Severus had so many questions – he knew where he was, but WHEN was he? What happened? Where were the others? What about Sirius? Molly seemed exhausted – she definitely lost some weight, so time had passed – he tried to breathe, regain some consciousness – he had to tell them – and ask them about Sirius and Draco and the kids. He tried to look at Remus and Tonks, which luckily understood – Tonks tried a weak smile. She looked like she didn't sleep in days.

“Sirius is fine. He's alive. He's not here. We'll write to him. He'll be back as soon as possible. The others are fine, too.”

Where could he possibly be? Wasn't he still wanted, on the run? Didn't he had to hide? And what about Albus? His students? He had to wait for these answers. Sirius was alive, and that was all that mattered. He wanted to ask about Draco and the kids, but there he was – he entered the room in that exact moment, running to him, hugging him. He didn't seem older, not that much – he couldn't tell how long he slept. Not much. Weeks? Time had been so strange in his mind – he felt like he spent years, days, hours in his memories, he couldn't tell – and now he couldn't understand. He had to wait for the potion to wear off. He had to be patient. Draco was there. 

They explained something to him. They tried. 

It wasn't easy. Kingsley wanted to wait until the potion was completely off. Molly wanted him to rest. Draco wanted to stay by his side, and it took some time to convince him to come back later, when Severus would be better. The other kids took him away, promising to be back soon – they were fine, but their faces were not. 

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. 

They could tell he was feeling uneasy. They could tell he understood that something was wrong. So they tried to tell him. Remus tried. With his gentle, reassuring voice, he tried to tell him what was going on. 

He'd been away almost two months. His heart sank at the idea of Lucius being there all that time – but the vision was fresh, he was sure of it, he was still alive, they could still save him. He tried to say something, but they thought he was asking for more details. And they told him. Alastor used his memories to track down some Death Eaters and saved some of the kids. Not all of them. The youngest, those the Death Eaters couldn't “use” yet. Regarding the others, they had to find out where they were yet. 

The saved kids were all in Hogwarts.   
Albus and Minerva were taking care of them.   
Sirius too. Because he thought that that's what Severus would've wanted him to do. He was surprised to think that it was true.   
It really was.   
Sirius postponed his death to do what he would've done if he would have been fine. 

He should've been disappointed. Maybe he had to feel betrayed.   
But the truth was that he never loved Sirius as much as he was.   
He smiled. 

The others didn't continue. A sudden silence fell on them all. 

They looked at each other. Severus could tell that they were trying to decide what to tell him. Or how. He didn't know, but he didn't care at that point. He had to tell them. He was awake for a reason. He took the chance to try and say it in that silence. Luckily, Draco was not there. He didn't want him to know. He wanted to save him first. He swallowed, and swallowed again. 

Then whispered: 

“Saw... Lucius.”

They all looked at him.

“What?” Remus got closer.  
“I... saw... Lucius.”  
“How did you...”  
“Where was he?”  
“Kingsley, he's still too weak, we have to wait”  
“He said he saw him.”  
“Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he just thinks he saw him.”  
“Really? That's the first thing he told us and you think it's irrelevant?”  
“No, it's just -”  
“Wait – Severus, I'm sorry – lot of things happened – are you sure? You really saw Lucius, now? Like he's alive now?”

Severus nodded, weakly. 

“That's what I thought.”  
“Remus, we don't know yet -”  
“Do you really need another proof, Arthur?” 

Severus tried to speak again. Remus saw him, shushed them and leaned on him. He looked incredibly stressed out. They all were miserable. The way they were talking and fighting... it was all so confusing.

Severus whispered again: 

“I woke up... to tell you...”

Remus smiled. He took his hands in his and squeezed them, trying to reassure him. He was close and Severus could see him better. He was thin and had dark circles under his eyes. 

“It's ok. It's ok, Severus...” he looked at the others, looking for their approval, before continuing “we suspected. Not only him – maybe Narcissa is alive too. But we had no proof...”  
“Again, Remus, this is no proof --”  
“How could he know? In his state – he could've seen him.”  
“I know, but...”  
“This isn't time, guys”, said Kingsley “he's still weak. Let's wait until the potion wears off. Then we'll talk.”

He sighed. 

“There are other things you should know, Severus. Hogwarts has closed. That's why Sirius can stay there. We are staying here because it's safer, now. Things are falling down, Severus. He's officially back. Everyone knows it now. We're at war.”


	50. Remus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry I'm taking it so slow, but the writing school is getting really intense and I have almost no time to write this story. I'll keep myself more organized to keep it updated regularly. Thank you all for your feedbacks - they really keep me going! 
> 
> See you soon - war is already among us, and it won't take long for the final battle :* 
> 
> ps. Yes, the story is set during the OotP timeline, but as you may notice I'm changing things a bit - well, I've already changed anything, haven't I? See you soon!

Severus didn't know what to think. He knew that somehow they had to reach that point – war. Open war. That was the end. Live or die, sooner or later. No one was safe. He wished he was stronger. Strong enough to join them, instead of rotting away on a bed in Grimmauld Place. He could have helped. He still could. Maybe just a little help... he could try. He didn't want to ask Remus yet, though. He just woke up. He had to wait. But he didn't want until it was too late. He didn't want the war to be over without him. They told him that Sirius was coming in a while. That they told him. But any movement would be dangerous now. They had to wait. Poppy couldn't come for the same reason, but Severus didn't seem to need her. He seemed fine. The long sleep made him better. At least, that's what they were hoping. What they wanted to believe. They couldn't tell the same about his mental state, but Remus and the others wanted to be optimistic. They wanted to believe that Severus was really fine again. 

They couldn't afford to lose him. The moral was so low. Severus was the only person surviving the Death Eaters. He was the only one who rose above their tortures. Knowing that he was better was a great news for everyone. Just few words were sufficient. He was better, wasn't he? They could tell the others. He woke up again. Everyone can survive them. Everything could get better for them all, too. Severus didn't know what his will was doing for the others. No one told him. They didn't want him to feel oppressed by them or their expectations. They wanted him to feel safe despite their situation. 

“It will be better, I promise. We'll win over them. We have to” said Remus, and Severus agreed. Yet he couldn't see Sirius.

There was so little communication. So little time. He couldn't even write to him. The Order and Hogwarts could communicate only with short, cryptic messages. He wished he could go back in his dreams and go looking for him, but he couldn't. He had to stay awake. He could feel the potion slowly wear off He had to go to Hogwarts. See his kids. They were all “his” kids, in a way. Not like Draco, but they felt his anyway. He spent most of his adult life taking care of them. He had no one else. Nothing else. He knew, somehow, he couldn't have kids – even before his attraction to Sirius. He just knew he wouldn't ever have kids. His bloodline would end with him. He was fine with that, actually. And he knew that that flicker of pride he felt when Draco or another one of his favorites was his paternal instinct going on. He was passing something anyway – his knowledge. That was enough, as long as they were fine. As long as he could have Sirius by his side – he became his greatest strength and weakness at the same time. He was strong because he was still alive and in love. He was weak because if anything would happen to him, he could die immediately. He wasn't this weak before he allowed love into his life. It was amazingly terrifying. Now he was allowing himself to heal because of him. And Lucius. Before Sirius, Lucius was the closest thing he could have to love. Like a brother. His family out of his blasted bloodline.

“Don't tell... Draco...” he murmured. He was lucky that Remus was close to him enough to notice that he spoke. Severus repeated his words. Remus smiled, trying to be reassuring. 

“We won't. Don't worry. We want to protect him too.”

He could tell that Remus was trying his best, but he seemed on the verge of tears. The potion was less strong, now. He could see better. He tried to move his hand toward him. They were alone. The others left the room. It was just him and Remus. He had hated him for the longest time. He had had nightmares on werewolves for almost a decade. The humiliation of the justice he never got lasted longer. 

He didn't hate Remus now, but he could still feel angry around him. He somehow represented all that got wrong in his life. They spoke during his healing process. They talked a lot when he was still blind. But they were all polite conversations about books, potions, things they could enjoy. Sometimes, they played chess too. But they never really connected. He was still mad at him, somehow. And Remus seemed to be still embarrassed around Severus. 

All his life, he managed not to attack anyone, not to kill anyone, not to hurt anyone. Yet he almost got him. It was all Sirius' fault, but he – he was unconscious, he could've done anything. James didn't just save Severus' life, that night. He saved his life as well. He couldn't have possibly get over the fact that he killed someone. He hated being someone's nightmare – Severus didn't tell him, but he knew – he was a monster, and he was in someone's nightmares – good thing that, at least, that someone was still alive. He hated Severus, of course, but he didn't deserve to die. Only Sirius thought that. And it took Remus the longest time to realize that it was because of his twisted love that turned into an obsession so strong he couldn't think to anything else. Now they were together, but it wasn't easy for Remus. People would think that it was because of Severus. That he didn't like Severus, and didn't want that vicious bastard of Snivellus around his best friend. It was not that – quite the contrary. He was worried about Severus. Sirius was obsessed by him. He always was. Good or bad, hate or love, black or white – he could only understand this. No gray area for him. He couldn't understand something out of the extraordinary. A good, peaceful, blossoming love was not for him. They moved too fast. And he was sure it was Sirius' fault. He loved him. But he felt this urge to protect Severus first. He saved their lives. He had to thank Severus if he could still worry about those things. If something happened – he was ready to break a friendship to protect Severus. It was the least he could do. 

Severus didn't know about Remus' thoughts. All he could think was Sirius. And the fact that he'd rather be there with Tonks. But he had Remus – oh, well, at least he seemed on his side. And he talked about some suspect – Narcissa, too? Maybe they were all alive – harvesting. 

He felt better. He had to talk a little. Make the potion go away. Do something. Anything. 

“Who's here? In... the house, I mean.”

Remus, startled, looked at him. He really seemed to be better, despite being still so thin and fragile on the bed, still almost unable to move. He seemed so young. He seemed to need a lot of protection. But his voice, despite the weakness, was already as sharp as a knife. He hesitated.

“Uhm... well, you saw us. Me, Nimph-Tonks, sorry – Kingsley, Molly, Arthur, the kids.”  
“Potter... as well?”  
“Yes.”  
“Keep him... safe. They're looking for... for him. He's... the final... key.”  
“Yeah, I know.”  
“He wants to be... immortal. You know. He could... he could be. And... harvest pure... purebloods.”  
“It's awful.”  
“We have... to stop him.”  
“We will.”  
“He'll... never... stop. He could really... never... die.”  
“I know.”

They paused. Severus wanted to ask something about Sirius, but he couldn't – he had to understand first. 

“Albus...”  
“He's in Hogwarts.”  
“Yes, but... what... what does he want... to do?”  
“I... I don't know. We still have to talk.”  
“I think... I know.”  
“What? What do you know?”  
“It's just... a feeling.”  
“Something you saw? A vision?”  
“No, it's just... I know Albus.”  
“Then tell me.”  
“You keep it... for yourself.”  
“Of course.”  
“Promise.”  
“I promise.”  
“I could be... wrong.”  
“You're just making an assumption. It's ok. I understand. But really... tell me. We're getting crazy in here, waiting for the moment of the battle – because there will be a battle, I have no doubt about it – and I just – we don't know Albus. Not like you. I wish I could know him better to at least imagine something that's not completely pointless and lethal.”

Severus sighed. He wished he never met Dumbledore. He knew too much about him. His smell. The touch of his skin. The taste of his – he couldn't even think about it. That was not the right time. Nor place. Nor person. Only Sirius. Sirius knew. He saw a memory. Just one. Only one. Thankfully, only one. He knew Albus too well. He wished he could leave the country and never see him again. But he couldn't. And he never could have. He just had to stand him. Obey him. But that was becoming useful. At least that. 

“Did he... talk to you... about the... the Horcruxes?”  
“Yes. Yes, he did.”  
“It's... confirmed?”  
“Yes. Slughorn told him.”  
“So... it's real?”  
“Yes.”

That was it, then. So, his suspicion were real. And also what he said about Potter being... he couldn't even think about it. Maybe that was not real. Maybe he just assumed it. When they – him and Albus – were still talking, before his imprisonment, it was all just a theory. But Slughorn confirmed, so... if Albus was right about the Horcruxes, he was right also about Potter. But he couldn't tell that to Remus. He knew too little. But he had no doubt about Albus' intentions – Harry was Voldemort's obsession anyway. 

“Did you find... them?”  
“Not all of them. Not yet.”  
“Who's... in charge?”  
“Us. This is just temporary. Sometimes there are just the kids left in the house. We have to keep them safe. And keep you safe. What was your theory?”

Severus took a deep breath.

“I think he could... and I'm just... guessing... he could... wait until... they are all gone. And then use... Potter... as a bait.”

Remus looked at him. Severus feared he could get angry, or tell him that he was being delusional or crazy – that he wasn't worth of any attention, and that Lucius couldn't possibly be alive, if that was his mental state – but he was all wrong. 

“We suspected too.”  
“Who?”  
“Alastor first.”  
“He knows Albus... well.”  
“You know him better. The fact that you suspect it too it's... really... too hints make a clue, right?”  
“Maybe we're wrong.”  
“Maybe not. We cannot know.”  
“You should talk to... Albus.”  
“We should. But it's almost impossible now.”  
“Is that... so bad?”  
“Better safe than sorry. It's only a matter of time. It shouldn't be long.”  
“What do... what do you mean?”  
“It's becoming – you know – complicated. The situation and all.”  
“Could they find us?”  
“No. Not Grimmauld Place.”  
“But Hogwarts, yes. They can go... there.”  
“They know Harry is not there. It's useless for them to attack the castle.”  
“They can take someone... and make him, or her... talk. They know their ways.”  
“You didn't talk.”  
“I had my good reasons. And I managed to keep... my... mind shut. You have no such strength. No offence. None... of you know Occlumancy.”  
“I know, but...”  
“You have to think. Focus. You can't just hope bad things won't happen. You have to think that... everything... can go wrong.”

The last sentenced drained Severus. He sighed and closed his eyes. Remus didn't move from his chair.

Silence fell on them.


End file.
